Self-Worth
by ShupoKawaii
Summary: How could she explain to him the gut wrenching feeling she had? The emptiness she felt during the day? The hatred she felt at night? How did she explain a lifetime of self-loathing to a stranger in one sentence? *possible trigger warning(s)*
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Wow okay so I am in absolute love with Quicksilver aka Pietro Maximoff aka Aaron Taylor-Johnson and that is where this stemmed from. One look at that quick bastard and I knew I was done for. So here's this thing I wrote. This is just the first of what seems to be a long thing but hopefully I can stick this one out. I don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to writing long fics like this ugh._

 _Also, potential trigger I think? So here's a trigger warning just in case. The story immediately starts out with the OC having a panic attack and I know sometimes just talking about or reading certain things can trigger people, so a warning just in case._

Lavender paced the floor, wringing her hands as she tried to hold the sobs in. Tears were streaming down her face and she couldn't stop the anxious feeling from crawling through her chest. It was dark in the room, the only light being faint from under the door. She couldn't calm herself down and her breathing wasn't returning to normal.

She had been awake for a little over ten minutes and normally her panic attack would have subsided by now, but she seemed to be having trouble calming down. The pacing normally helped, but tonight it seemed to just be doing harm. The more she paced the smaller it seemed the room was becoming. She had to get out of there: she felt like she was suffocating.

Lavender threw the door open harder than she needed to, but she couldn't help it. She ran down the long hallway, aware that the others were sleeping. Normally she would go to Natasha if she was having a particularly bad episode, but Natasha was out. She was just going to have to deal with this one on her own.

The hallway seemed to be closing in on her as well and she quickened her pace, thumping down the steps and bursting through the back doors that lead to the training area outside of the base. She took in a deep gasping breathe as she sat on her haunches, clutching at her hair as she tried to steady herself.

Her mind was working a mile a second, streaming through thoughts she didn't want to think. Lavender couldn't suppress the images of the others coming back, bloody and bruised. She couldn't suppress the image of Tony laying on the ground, his reactor dim as he heart finally stopped. She couldn't suppress the thoughts of, _"Death is always imminent."_

She covered her eyes as the tears continued, trying to calm down.

" _This is why they don't need you. You can't do anything right. You're so_ _ **weak**_ _."_

She cried out, wishing the thoughts would stop.

" _You don't do anything but hold them back. They can't even go out without having to worry about you back here all by your lonesome, too_ _ **weak**_ _to defend yourself._ _ **Pathetic**_ _."_

"Stop!" she cried, pounding her fists to her temples, falling forward and barely catching herself.

Her breaths were coming out raggedly now and she was sure she would pass out at any second, face down in the dirt. She couldn't get her breathing to even out and her cries were becoming hysterical. She was right about herself. She was _**pathetic**_.

"Hey… hey!"

Lavender choked as someone kneeled down in front of her, putting their hands on her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" the accent was thick and she knew who it was, even though her tears obscured their face.

"P-P-" she hiccupped, running a gritty hand across her running nose.

Pietro Maximoff merely looked at her and she felt even stupider.

" _You can't even hide your weaknesses from them. How long are you going to drag them down? Quit being so selfish!"_

She sobbed, shoulders shaking as Pietro helped her to her feet, holding her close to him to steady her.

"Hey hey hey, it's okay. It's okay," he shushed her, leading her to the pavilion that the recruits were allowed to rest under.

She merely shook her head in response, failing to breathe through her nose and coughing. He set her down on a bench, kneeling in front of her to try and get a look at her lowered face.

Lavender wiped furiously at her face, grabbing fistfuls of her shirt to stop herself from shaking.

"Nightmare?" he asked, one hand placed soothingly on her knee and the other placed on the bench by her leg.

How could she explain to him the gut wrenching feeling she had? The emptiness she felt during the day? The hatred she felt at night? How did she explain a lifetime of self-loathing to a stranger in one sentence?

"Y-yeah," she sniffled, and she realized her heart rate was starting to slow. She could feel the warmth of their bodies mingling in the chill of the air and she realized it was probably around midnight, if the moon's position was anything to go off.

He merely nodded his head, rubbing her knee. She knew he was often plagued with nightmares, as she often heard the shouts and screams from the room he shared with his sister.

She wiped messily at her nose with the hem of her shirt and she brought her hands up to run through her hair, taking deep breaths. He was still staring concernedly at her and she wished her would look anywhere else than at her, at the mess that she was. At the failure that she was.

"Would you like a few more minutes out here to breathe and then head back to bed?" he asked her.

The thought of her room, of the dark cramped space that she occupied in this place that she shouldn't, made her feel sick to her stomach. She wouldn't be able to sleep in there and she knew it.

"Yeah, I do," Lavender attempted a small smile but it probably came out a grimace. Nothing she did ever turned out right.

He nodded his head at her and she sighed as she wrapped her arms around herself, leaning forward to place her elbows on her thighs. This causes him to remove his hand from her knee and though that subtracted warmth, she felt better that he was no longer touching her.

He didn't say anything to her as he let her breathe, but the silence was horrible. She may not have been panicking, but she was still thinking, which was worse. She almost wished he would say something to her, but she knew she wouldn't be able to say anything back. It was a lose-lose for her either way and really, that's all she deserved.

"Have you calmed down now?" he asked quietly and she realized he had stood up.

Her heart kick started at the thought of entering that dark room, but she stood and nodded towards him. He placed a hand on her upper back and led her back to the back door, even opening it for her. She folded in on herself more.

They walked quietly back to her room and the hallway seemed to stretch. Lavender just wanted him to go away, so he didn't have to deal with her anymore. She felt horrible that he was sacrificing sleep just to make sure he was okay. He shouldn't have to do that. Not for her. She wasn't worth it.

They walked by his room and she saw Wanda, his sister, standing in the doorway, looking worriedly at the both of them. She could see Pietro shake his head from the corner of her eye and she felt the tears spring to her eyes. She also noticed he intended on walking her all the way down to her room.

"Oh no, you don't have to walk me to my room," Lavender quickly told him, stopping in the middle of the hall.

Wanda took a step closer towards her in order to lean on the doorway and Pietro just shrugged.

"But I want to," he smiled at her and she averted her gaze, letting her hair cover her eyes slightly.

She shook her head at him, "I think I can find my way from here, you don't have to do anymore. But… thank you. I mean, for staying with me."

His smile widened and she could see Wanda smiling softly as well, "It's okay."

She quickly turned on her heel and trotted back to her room, slipping in and shutting the door. The dark engulfed her, but she was quick to turn on her bed side lamp. She sighed as she sat heavily on the edge of her bed, running a hand through her hair. Her nose was still stuffy and her chest was achy, but she didn't feel as bad as she had.

She scooted back on the bed in order to pull her knees up to her chest. She leaned her head against her knees and sighed again.

It looked like it was going to be another long night.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Hello! Well, here is the next part! I hope this doesn't seem rushed. It seemed rushed as I read over it. Thank you in advanced to anyone who reads and/or reviews!_

Lavender had been able to fall asleep, though the position left her back aching. She got dressed groggily, wondering what Dr. Cho would want her help with that day. Hopefully she could be useful to her.

She scratched at the sleep in her eyes as she exited her room and the last thing she wanted to see was Pietro walking past. His eyes flashed as they made contact with her, but he didn't say anything. He gave her a slight wave and then he was on down the hallway.

She squared her shoulders as he passed, feeling uncomfortable that he had to witness one of her attacks last night. She just wanted to put it past her and get on with her day. She set off to the medical lab.

* * *

She enjoyed helping Dr. Cho. Her work with regenerating cells was probably the most amazing thing Lavender had heard of, alongside a lot of things Tony had invented. Dr. Cho was going to save lives once she learned how to properly build an organ and prevent it from deteriorating once it left the cradle. Watching the organs as they slowly grew in the cradle was mind-blowing and she was amazed every time she saw a heart beating in the machine.

"Good morning Dr. Cho," she greeted the doctor, who smiled warmly at her.

"Good morning. My, you have some bags under your eyes. Have you not been sleeping well?"

She self-consciously ran her fingers under her eyes, giving the doctor a small smile, "Kind of. On and off. What are we working on today?"

Dr. Cho studied her for a minute behind the information screen in front of her, deciding to leave it alone, "We're running tests to try and generate some more rat organs today, to see if we have the algorithm right."

Lavender nodded enthusiastically, donning a lab coat and gloves, "Great. Let's get to work."

* * *

She always felt better leaving the lab for the day, like she was helping the beginning of something great. She just _knew_ this machine would change the way everyone would be able to access medicine. Soon, the whole world would be able to get any kind of transplant they needed. Dr. Cho was working on all kinds of deals with hospitals in various countries to have cradles installed as soon as she was finished on her project. To think that she had anything to do with it, even a small part, was the only good thing she had ever done with her life. It would probably be the only good thing she would ever do with her life.

"Ah, Lavender, hello."

She looked up to see Steve Rogers standing in front of her and she knew that meant Natasha was back as well. She was dying to see the older woman, if only to get a piece of mind that she was alright.

"Good morning Steve," she smiled slightly at him, wringing her hands.

His smile was tired, but he didn't look worse for wear, "It's good to see you. How fairs the work?"

Her smile widened at the mere mention of it, "We've been running more tests lately and the time the organs are able to survive inside the rats has tripled in the last week. We're getting so close, it almost hurts to think that we haven't reached our goal yet."

He chuckled slightly and took a step towards her, making her take a step back, "Knowing yours and Dr. Cho's dedication, I'm sure you'll get it right in no time."

"I sure hope so," Lavender smiled, picking at her cuticles, "Would you happen to know if Natasha is in her room?"

"Romanoff? She should be. We just got done debriefing with Fury."

She nodded her head, tapping the tips of her shoes against the tiled floor, "I think I'm going to go see her before she goes off to visit Clint."

Steve nodded, running a hand over his face, "Alright, I'll see you later then."

She gave him a small wave before darting off down the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief. He made her nervous sometimes.

He was right though, about Natasha being in her room. Her door was ajar and she knocked lightly before pushing it further open, seeing the redhead on her phone. She practically beamed when she saw Lavender and abruptly cut the call short, which made her believe that it was Clint on the other line.

" _You just get in the way of others relationships."_

"I'm so glad to see you," Lavender sighed, hugging her friend tightly.

"Of course. This mission was no problem," Natasha waved a hand, placing both of her hands on her shoulders, "My real concern is you. You look like you haven't slept in days."

She ducked her head, playing with her fingers, "I had a… rough night."

Natasha clucked her tongue, pulling her to sit on the mattress with her, "Is everything all right?"

Lavender shrugged, refusing to meet the redhead's eyes, "Same old same old."

She was always grateful for her friend's concern, but sometimes she wished Natasha had never found out. It just made her feel guiltier that the older woman was always looking after her.

"I wasn't planning on going out to see Clint and co. until tomorrow, we should hang out," Natasha announced, "Let me get dressed."

"I don't get a say in this?" she teased slightly, though she was more than willing to go out with Nat. She always knew how to have a good time.

"Of course not, or else we'd always sit on the couch and watch Netflix," Nat unzipped her suit and let it drop to the floor shamelessly and Lavender had to advert her eyes. She never meant to, but sometimes Natasha made her feel self-conscious.

"Excuse you, Netflix is bae," her eyes were trained on the floor, waiting for Natasha to put on something that was sure to accentuate every gorgeous feature she had, which was all of them.

"Please never let that sentence come out of your mouth again. Do you want to change?" Natasha knew the answer though.

She tugged on the end of her favorite cardigan and gave her pants a once over: no visible stains, "No."

"Then let's go."

* * *

Lavender was glad Natasha knew her boundaries. She was always afraid the other would insist they go to a club or bar that would be packed full of people, but she never did. That night she just decided to drive. She just wanted to drive and Lavender was all for it. They rolled the windows down and let the wind blow their hair crazily and sang along to all the cheesy pop songs they loved. They laughed and drove and didn't care for a few hours, something that they both needed to do.

" _She's pretending."_

Her laughter died as she looked out into the dark that laid before them, her smile wilting.

" _You foolish_ _ **child**_ _. Do you really think she likes your company? Likes_ _ **you**_ _?"_

She cleared her throat, turning the music down a bit so she could think properly.

"Breathe. Just breathe. Its okay, you're okay. You're out with Nat and you are having a hella good time."

Natasha glanced over and seemed to be to tell that something was wrong, from the look on her face and the way she was gripping at her jeans.

"So tell me, how's work going?"

She laughed but shook her head, "You don't honestly care about how my work is going."

Nat scoffed, taking a sharp turn that made her grab the car door, "Excuse you I care. It's important to you, so it's important to me."

Her heart constricted and she smiled slightly, glancing over at her friend, "Well if you really want to know-"

"Short version. You always go off on a tangent," Nat smiled affectionately at her.

Lavender stuck her tongue out, but happily replied, "It's going really well. I think we're close Nat. I really do."

"Does this machine of yours grow senses of humor? Because Thor needs his replaced. He does not laugh at a single one of my jokes."

"That's because you're not funny," she teased.

That earned her another sharp turn.

* * *

Her head was quiet and she was relaxed as they returned to the base. Natasha also seemed to be in a good mood, which made her feel great. Her last mission must have gone exceptionally well.

It was late when they returned, as the sun was beginning to set. However, they could both see the silverish blue blur on the track and Natasha chuckled.

"I hear Steve complain about that kid ruining the treading all the time," she turned her voice nasally, jokingly, "'He goes to fast and he doesn't even care what's in his path. I swear-'" she broke off laughing.

Lavender continued to watch him run, refusing to look at Natasha, "He found me last night."

Nat stopped laughing and turned towards her, eyebrows scrunched together, "You mean you had an attack last night? Are you okay? Is that why-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I was just… stressed, I guess," she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, rubbing at them, feeling drained all of a sudden.

Natasha was silent for a moment, reaching a hand up to rub at Lavender's arm before asking, "What did he do?"

"He just… sat with me. He thought I had a nightmare and needed to breathe, so he just let me calm down before almost walking me back to my room. Wanda met us in the hallway," she told her, moving just out of arms reach of the redhead.

Natasha just looked at her, before sighing, "Come on. Let's go inside. Maybe a cup of tea will hel-"

"No thanks, Nat, you don't have to do that for me," she smiled slightly at her, "Thank you though. For caring."

"Of course!" Natasha was careful to use her body to indicate that she wanted a hug, which Lavender was okay with giving her, "I want to make sure you're okay."

" _She's just using you."_

She squeezed her friend a little, before pulling a way.

"I think I'm going to go lie down. If I don't see you before you leave tomorrow, well, I guess I'll just see you later. Tell Clint and co. I said hey."

Natasha nodded and smiled as Lavender began walking inside. The blue blur was no longer there.

* * *

Though Lavender didn't want to trouble Natasha with it, a cup of tea did sound like just the thing she needed. She smiled slightly to herself, as she imagined the smell of the various brews she could have. It would be wonderful.

The sight of Pietro in the kitchen made her stop, hand grasping at the doorway. He raised his head when he saw her, and offered a smile. She gave a tentative one back, her hands sweating. She was so tempted to run away so she didn't have to face him and she even took the step back to do so.

"Please, do not let me get in the way," he told her, stuffing his face with leftovers, "Is more than enough room for both of us."

She took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen, eyes set on the cabinet the kettle was in. She had to pass by him to get to it and she withdrew into herself to make herself smaller.

Pietro was watching her when she turned around, half a sandwich stuck in his mouth.

"Was-wasn't dinner four hours ago?" she asked, instantly regretting it.

" _What an idiotic thing to say, though it's perfect for an idiot."_

"Second dinner," he smiled, taking a big swig of Gatorade to wash it down.

She sighed slightly, going to fill up the kettle in order to put it on the stove.

"Are you making tea?" he inquired, a single eyebrow raised.

She nodded her head, wringing her hands as she searched for teabags, "Yes. Would… would you like a cup?"

His eyes lit up and he brushed his hands off as he leaned against the counter, "I would love one."

He pulled out one of the stools by the counter, settling in, finishing off his sandwich as he watched her ready their cups.

"What flavor would you like?" she asked, rifling through the box of teabags that Natasha kept filled for her.

"I think… lavender would be sweetest," his accent seemed to thicken as his voice dropped.

Her heart sped up and she closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath. Lavender held it for a moment, before letting it come out in a puff, clearing her throat.

" _Don't be naïve. Who would_ _ **want**_ _you?"_

"Sorry. I actually don't have that flavor."

He hummed as he propped his chin on his fist, "What would you recommend then?"

"W-well I guess it depends on what you're going for. Green tea has great overall health benefits, such as improving mental health. Black tea is great for preventing strokes, white tea has great anticancer properties, and oolong tea can greatly lower cholesterol levels. But then there's sweeter tea, like chamomile, which helps prevent complications from diabetes, and hibiscus, which can help lower blood pressure. Of course, there are also other flavors, like passion fruit and mint, that you can drink just because you like the flavor."

She turned back towards him, tea box in hand, to see a warm smile plastered on his face.

"You know so much about tea and health in general," she was impressed with his English, but more impressed that his accent was still so prominent. Wanda's was less persistent, "It is… how you say… cute? It is cute how passionate you are about that which matters to you."

She felt her cheeks rapidly warm up and she placed the box on the counter to prevent the obviousness of her hands shaking.

"I would still prefer lavender, but green tea also sounds good," he glanced up at her, pulling his preferred teabag out of the box.

She nodded her head, refusing to make eye contact, as she gingerly took the teabag from him and placed it in a cup. She could hear the water boiling in the kettle as it started to whistle.

Lavender's hands were starting to shake as she pulled the kettle off the stove, holding it with both hands to prevent herself from spilling it. He was watching her carefully and her senses were heightened, in tune with everything he was doing. She could hear his slow breathing, could see the slight twitch of his hands, the way his eyes darted from the cup to her face and back.

She pushed the cup towards him, and he raised the cup to take a sip.

"Oh! N-no, not yet. You have to let the tea seep in the water for a little while, in order for the water to absorb the tea flavor. It helps to dunk your teabag," she told him, swirling her teabag lightly in order to not spill her tea.

He lowered his cup, copying her movements, "You don't have to stand. You may sit beside me."

She wrapped both of her hands around her cup, letting the heat warm her hands, glancing at the stool beside him. She had just calmed down, feeling comfortable enough to stand in front of him. But sitting beside him would be whole new territory and she was unsure if she was ready for that.

So Lavender shook her head, "No, I would feel better standing. Thank you though."

There was silence as they each nursed their cup of tea, her looking everywhere at him while he was only looking at her. She was unnerved; it seemed as if he was trying to dissect her, staring holes through her skin.

He took a small sip of his tea, nodding his head at the taste, "How are you… feeling today?"

Her eyes snapped to his and there was a jolt in her stomach when they meet. She quickly averted her eyes, though he continued to stare at her.

"I… I'm okay," she gave him a small smile, "I was able to go back to bed once I got back to my room."

 _" **Liar**."_

He nodded his head, "I know something about… nightmares. I often have them, from the bomb that destroyed my home to the experiments Wanda and I underwent. Sometimes I'll wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding. Sometimes I wake up and I don't know where I am and I think I'm still at the HYDRA base, waiting for the scientists to inject more chemicals into me. Sometimes Wanda will wake me up with her screaming and sometimes I'll wake her up," there was a prominent frown on his face as he looked down into his tea.

Her hands were starting to shake again and she had to wipe her hands on her jeans. He took a moment, though she wasn't sure if it was for his sake or her's.

"But I always remember that I am safe. That I am somewhere where others aren't out to hurt me. That whenever I look over, Wanda will always be there and I will never have to worry about someone taking her away from me."

Tears had sprung in the corner of her eyes and she had to stop herself from letting a sob out.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to upset you. I just…" he sighed, letting his eyes wander up to her face, "I was hoping that would help."

She placed a hand over her mouth, breathing into her palm a few times to try and calm herself, before wrapping her hand around her mug again. She offered him a watery smile, but nothing else.

They drank the rest of their tea in silence.

" _You're nothing but a_ _ **nuisance**_ _. Who are you to burden others with your problems?"_


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: I full heartedly believe that Pietro and Wanda's accent is much thicker when they're tired and no one will be able to convince me otherwise, no ifs ands or buts. And the twins not knowing quite the right English word? I'm all for that. Also, you guys have no idea how excited I am that I got to call Pietro Sonic in this chapter hell yeah._

Lavender shot up in her bed, hands clutching her blankets. She could hear screaming that she thought was her at first, but realized it was coming from down the hall. She could fear her skin sticking to her sheets and when she realized the screaming wasn't stopping, she slipped out into the hall.

She didn't see anyone else out there and no alarms seemed to be going off, so she was unsure if the screaming was real or in her head. But she decided following the sound was the best course of action.

She stopped outside of Pietro and Wanda's room, hearing the screams coming from within. She paused, staring at the door for a few moments, listening to the anguish escape the room.

" _What are you going to do be able to do? You are_ _ **useless**_ _."_

The screams were tearing at her heart and against her better judgement, she stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door.

"Pietro? Wanda?" she called and after a few moments, the door clicked open.

She pushed it open further, seeing Wanda leaning over Pietro who was thrashing in his bed. Her eyes were glowing red, as were her fingers, and she knew Wanda was trying to use her powers to calm him down, and she must have used her powers to open the door.

She was frozen in the doorway, unsure of what she could do to help. If Wanda couldn't calm him down, how was she supposed to do anything for him?

"I don't understand why I am unable to calm him. Please help me," Wanda's accent was thick and her voice was low, but it held a pleading tone.

Help? How was she going to help? But she walked over regardless, perching on the edge of the bed cautiously, close to Wanda. Pietro's sheets were soaked and clinging to his skin, tangled around his legs as he continued to thrash. Wanda was whispering to him in their native language and wanting to be of help _somehow_ , Lavender slid her hand into his, clutching onto it.

"Pietro, hey, it's okay. It's just a nightmare, it's not real. You're going to wake up and you're going to be fine. Wanda is going to be here, safe and sound, and you're going to be here, safe and sound. There will be no scientists, no experiments, nothing. _You're safe_."

His eyes flew open and he gasped, trying to drag breath into his lungs. Wanda was immediately hovering over him, trying to soothe him, and his grip on her hand tightened ten-fold.

"W-Wanda," he gasped and she kissed his forehead, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

They were mumbling to each other and when she went to retrieve her hand, he refused to let her go. Wanda placed a hand on his shoulder as he sat up, eyes slightly red and sweat dripping from his forehead. He gave her a tight smile, using the blanket to wipe at himself as Wanda went to fetch him a towel.

"Are... are you okay?"

He blew some air out, looking down at their hands, at the redness he was causing to her hand. He loosened his grip slightly but refused to let her hand go completely.

"Just a nightmare. I vill be fine."

Wanda walked back in, towel in hand and a concerned look still on her face. She went to wipe his face, but he stopped her, taking the towel from her instead. She merely nodded her head and sat on the edge, eyes focused intently on him.

Lavender felt like she was intruding, like this was something she shouldn't be a part of. This must have been an almost nightly routine between the twins and here she was interrupting it, ruining it. She shouldn't be there. She shouldn't _be there_.

"Are you alright now?" Wanda asked and Lavender was always surprised at how smooth her voice was, how calm and collected she could be when it was obvious she was upset.

Pietro nodded his head, having let go of her hand to press the towel fully to his face. With her hand free she wrung them together, looking away from the twins so as to give them some semblance of privacy.

"I am fine, truly. It was just a nightmare," he threw the towel on the floor and kicked back his sheets, grimacing at the sweat, "But I need to shower."

She was off his bed in an instant, trying to get out of his way. Both of the twins glanced at her, before turning to speak to each other in Russian.

" _They must be talking about the girl_ _ **stupid**_ _enough to show up to their room as if she_ _ **matters**_ _."_

A sickly feeling spread in her stomach, as their words floated softly over to her. She felt like she could hear the condescending tone.

Pietro seemed to sleep in only a light t-shirt and boxers and she turned away from him once he stood up, running a hand through his hair.

"I-I'll just go now. I just wanted to make sure you were alright and seeing as how you are I can-"

"Once I'm done showering can you… cook me some tea?" he asked, voice hesitant, and she folded her arms, turning slightly to him.

"Cook? Oh… you want me to brew you some tea?" she asked, sweeping her eyes from the floor up to meet his. There was the same feeling of electricity running through her belly.

"Yes, brew. I think a cup of tea would be good," he looked apprehensive, as did his sister.

"Of course!" Anything to stop the hole of inadequacy from eating her up, "…Wanda, would you like some too?"

Wanda's eyes lit up and her smile was adorable, one Lavender thought belonged on a doll, "I would love a cup."

She nodded, tugging at the ends of her hair, before heading towards the door, "It should be done by the time your shower is over."

She was out the door as soon as she finished speaking.

* * *

She quietly pattered around the kitchen, closing cabinet doors gently so as to prevent making any noise that could wake the others up. The clock ticked slowly on and she shook her head at the time. 5:48 in the morning. There was no way she was going to go back to sleep, not with all her nerves lit up like they were.

But she didn't mind. She liked being up before everyone else. It gave her a chance to steel herself, to try and act like a person. She could run through different scenarios in her head so as to prepare herself if they did act out. She could sit outside and listen to the bird's stir, watch as the sun rose and the colors blossomed across the sky. She could see life begin for the day, which always seemed to calm her, give her some sort of peace that the world was okay for another day.

What wasn't calming was how quiet Wanda entered the kitchen, and upon turning around and seeing her, Lavender dropped the tea box she was holding.

"Oh Lord!" she gasped, eyes widening.

Wanda quickly apologized, bending down to help her pick up the scattered bags, "I did not mean to frighten you. I just thought I could… hang out with you until Pietro finished his shower."

"No no, it's okay. I'm just not used to people being up this early with me is all," she ran a hand over her face, scratching at an inch on the tip of her nose.

She straightened up, setting the box on the counter near the three cups she had set out.

"Is there a specific flavor you want?" Lavender asked, picking out her favorite citrus flavored tea.

Wanda motioned to the box, in a 'Can I look?' gesture and Lavender pushed it lightly over to her. After rifling through the box for a few minutes, she pulled out a few packets.

"What is the difference between these two?" she asked, a questioning look on her face as she held up a green tea bag and a black tea bag.

Lavender smiled, "Well, green tea is great for a lot of things, but especially for improving mental health and capacity, which honestly I think would be the best thing for you, considering your powers and all. Black tea, on the other hand is-"

"-great for preventing strokes," a thick accented cut in.

They both turned towards Pietro as he walked in through the door, ruffling a towel over his head. He was dressed like he was going to work out, which was how he dressed all the time really.

He smiled at the both of them as he took a seat behind the counter, placing his towel on the back of his chair and pulling the tea box to him, "I remember from your lecture this morning."

"It wasn't a lecture," Lavender mumbled, lowering her head.

Wanda chided Pietro lightly, smiling at her bother, before turning towards her, "I would like a cup of green tea please."

"I would like this… camel mill," Pietro squinted at the words, "… camo… mile?"

She chuckled lightly, taking the bag gently from his hands, "Chamomile."

"I would like a cup of chamomile tea please," he practically beamed at her and she averted her eyes, though her smile stayed.

" _ **Childish**_ _."_

She cleared her throat slightly, setting the bags in their respective cups, before retrieving the just starting to whistle kettle. Wanda watched as she poured an even amount into each cup, setting the hot kettle to the side so no one touched it.

Wanda wrapped her hand, tentatively around the mug, moving to bring it to her lips.

"Ah ah ah dear sister! First, the tea must… steep in the water, or else it won't taste like tea," it was Pietro's turn to chide his sister and she looked scandalized, "Do as I do."

It was so endearing to see the twins interacting, so much so that she didn't have the heart to correct Pietro on the proper use of the word seep, not steep. She wondered if the twins had had many days like this where they could just relax, but she was pretty sure their days consisted of rioting and then being subjected to experiments until their rescue.

Lavender thought about how horrible that must have been, to have only one person to rely on in the entire world for so long. To be so _angry_ at the world to willingly subject oneself to such harsh experimentation, without even knowing what the outcome could possibly be. The only good thing that must have come out of all of it, she thinks, is the relationship the twins have. They might only have one person to depend on, but at least it was someone who meant the world to them.

"Lavender?" Wanda snapped her out of her thoughts and she glanced up at the younger twin, "I did not mean to disturb your thinking."

She shook her head, taking a drink of her tea and letting it fill her with warmth, before saying anything, "No I shouldn't have spaced out I'm sorry."

Wanda gave her a small smile, side-eyeing Pietro. She felt her stomach twist when he nodded his head, but then Wanda brought her cup up slowly to her lips and took a sip of her own tea.

"Oh my, this is good," she seemed a little surprised and Pietro chuckled at the surprised face she made.

Lavender smiled, happy to have been of some help to the twins. She leaned against the counter and this caught Pietro's attention.

"Please, take a seat," he pulled out the chair between Wanda and himself and she felt her heart speed up.

Their smiles were both so warm, she would've felt awful if she had said no. So she perched gingerly on the edge of the seat, though there would be no escape as she was trapped between the twins.

They were quiet for a few moments and Lavender was almost able to relax, until one of the twins so much as shifted and then her back stiffened.

" _How is anybody supposed to trust you if you don't trust_ _ **them**_ _?"_

"So…" Wanda spoke up, turning to face her slightly, "You work in the medical lab, correct?"

A smile spread across her face and she nodded, thinking about her work with Dr. Cho. She felt more comfortable with Wanda than she did with Pietro, even though Wanda was the one with mind reading powers. Maybe it was because Pietro always looked like he was searching for something inside her. Or maybe it was the physical color of his eyes. They were such a nice shade of blue.

A look spread across Wanda's face, one Lavender couldn't identify and she panicked. She hoped Wanda hadn't been reading her thoughts. _Any_ of them.

"I-I do. I try and help her every day that I can," she looked into her cup of tea, so as to avoid looking Wanda in the eyes, "She's made such progress lately with the cradle and to be a part of that is such an honor for me. Dr. Cho is going to revolutionize medicine and to be able to say I had a hand in it, even in such a microscopic way, is all I've ever wanted in life."

She looked up at Wanda in time to see her look away from Pietro. She knew one way they talked was telepathically, courtesy of the youngest twin, and she couldn't help but feel as if they had been talking about her.

" _Stop_ _ **boring**_ _people."_

She looked back into her cup. That seemed to be the only spot that was safe.

"That is so amazing," Wanda's voice held a tone of awe and she was looking at Lavender in an almost… adoring way, "Pietro has told me about your passion for your work, but to see you and the way you talk about it and how it makes you feel is… _amazing_."

A blush erupted across Lavender's face and she was quick to shake her head, "No no no, it's not my work it's-"

"It's as much yours as it is Dr. Cho's," Pietro cut in, voice deep and gravelly.

She glanced at Pietro first, eyes blue and shining as they met hers, before looking back at Wanda, who had what seemed an encouraging smile on her face.

"T-Thank you," she whispered, feeling tears spring to her eyes.

" _Do_ _ **not**_ _take credit for that which is not yours!"_

She lowered her head so her hair would cover her face, blinking desperately to get the tears out of her eyes.

There was more silence, as she figured the twins were talking telepathically to each other and she was too shaken to try and strike up another conversation. They finished off the rest of their tea in silence, the only sound coming from the humming refrigerator.

* * *

It had been a weird few weeks, as her interactions with Pietro had increased dramatically since he had helped her that one night. Lavender had been unnerved at first, because she never remembered seeing him as often as she did now, but it seemed like he was everywhere. He always seemed to be walking by her door as she was ready to work, a smile on face and a 'Hello' on his lips. He was always outside when she and Nat decided to spend the day in the sun, a blue blur on the track. And by some power or another, she found her early mornings spent with the twins in the kitchen, drinking tea and talking about various things, ranging from their hometown to what in the world shawarma actually was.

But then he was suddenly gone, no morning hello, no blur. The first time having tea only with Wanda had been unsettling, as the other had watched her seemingly carefully. But it had been pleasant, listening to Wanda tell stories of her and her brother as children, getting a little misty eyed as she thought of her parents. Wanda has tried to ask about Lavender's childhood, but just the thought of it made her breath quicken and hands shake, and Wanda quickly switched topics.

She felt a little weird admitting it to herself, but she was more than ready to see Pietro and his warm stubbly smile and hear his comforting accent again. She did not, however, want to see him brought into the medical ward, bloody gashes covering his body.

She was frozen, staring at his bruised and cut face, at his closed eyes, at his limp hands, at his unmoving chest.

"No… no…"

She watched as Dr. Cho hooked him up to an IV and a machine that would let them monitor his vitals. She watched as the doctor brought them up larger and she could see the outline of Pietro's body, most of his body a red tint where he had been hurt. His pulse was low. He had lost a lot of blood. He could _die_.

"-nder… Lavender!" Dr. Cho was shouting at her, trying to get her to focus.

She took in a shuddering breath, trying to regain her senses, before moving in closer to the bloodied hero.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, giving him a purely medical once over.

His shirt was ripped in various places, blood seeping through in other parts. He had a cut above his eyebrow, blood dripping down into his eye as his hair clung in clumps to his forehead. His breathing was irregular and his skin was pale. She placed a hand under the side of his chin, checking for a pulse, and finding it faint.

"We have to stop this bleeding. Grab some towels, some gauze, and the kit in the cabinet," Dr. Cho instructed her.

She quickly fetched the items, realizing that her hands were shaking. Pietro was laying on the table, probably dying, and she couldn't get herself out of her funk.

" _ **Useless**_ _even in the area you're supposed to be good in."_

She drew in a shaky breath as she returned to Dr. Cho's side, unable to avert her eyes from his bleeding wounds.

Dr. Cho was inserting an IV in his arm in order to replenish his fluids, "Lavender _please_ , I need your help."

" _Why are you so_ _ **incompetent**_ _?"_

Dr. Cho's face tightened as Pietro stirred, choking on his own blood as he tried to sit up.

"No no no," she held him down, him being too weak to fight back, "Pietro its okay. You're safe, I'm here, it's me, I won't hurt you. You're at the Avengers base, Wanda's safe and _you are going to be okay_."

"L-Lavender?" he struggled to get out, reaching blindly out, unable to see through the haze of blood.

She reached for his hand, holding it close to her body, hoping it would give him some sort of comfort.

"Let me patch you up, okay?" she whispered and his body relaxed, too weak to fight against either of them.

Seeing him struggle to breathe, to even open an eyelid, his fingers twitching as she tried to do something, brought tears to her eyes. But it also caused something to stir in her stomach, in her heart, and she steeled herself.

"I will _**n** **ot**_ let him die!"

She immediately got to work, starting with the worst wounds first, the one on his chest. With Dr. Cho's help, they got rid of the useless shirt, sopping up blood and pus as he groaned lightly at the pressure.

"According to the computer, there's still a bullet in this wound," she told the doctor, reaching for a knife and an extractor, "I need to get that out before I can attend to anything else. Will you watch his signs to make sure I don't nip something I'm not supposed to?"

But they both knew she wouldn't come close. The bullet was lodged near his ribs, but she was focused and her hands were steady now and she would get it out no problem.

Pietro groaned as she reached into his skin with the extractors, using the knife to help dig under it to pull it out.

"Shh, I know, I'm sorry, but we can't leave this in your body," she soothed him, rubbing his arm after she pulled the bullet it out and threw it in the trash, "There, now I can attend to this wound."

They were quiet, except for Pietro's light moans of pain as the medicine stung, doing its best to fight off any infections. She applied a large bandage to the bullet wound, knowing she would have to wrap gauze around it after he could sit up.

"The wound on his chest is going to need stitches," Dr. Cho informed her, already pulling the needle and string out to get to work.

She nodded, grabbing onto Pietro's hand as she hovered over him, offering some sort of comfort with her closeness. His face was sweaty from the pain and she dabbed all around his face, mindful of the cut above his eyebrow they had yet to attend to.

"Hey, Dr. Cho is going to be stitching you up and it's going to hurt, but it'll help you I promise," she whispered, watching as his eyeballs twitched under his eyelids.

He mumbled something that she couldn't quite make out, but he held onto her hand, letting out a few moans and groans as Dr. Cho slowly sewed the wound shut. She whispered nonsense to him, things such as the new tea she had bought that she wanted him to try and that tea time just wasn't right without him.

"I love listening to Wanda tell stories, but it's not the same without you two butting heads over details," she whispered to him, thumb stroking circles on the back of his hand, "You have to tell me your side of the story on the one time you gave that boy down the street a black eye. Wanda insists you didn't mean to, but I think you didn't like that he was flirting with her."

His one unbloodied eye fluttered open and she sucked in a breath at that familiar jolt. Even trying to fight for his life, seeing red in one eye, his good eye was as blue and electrifying as always. If she hadn't been so concerned with making sure that he came out of it alive, she would have blushed under his gaze.

"H-He wasn't good e-enough for her," he rasped out, chest heaving but not as hard as it had when he first arrived.

She pushed the hair out of his eyes, some of his blood catching on her thumb, "Shh, don't talk. You can tell me tonight when I bring you some tea, alright?"

Their eye contact never broke.

She heard Dr. Cho announce her finishing the stitches and Lavender straightened up, having to physically remove Pietro's hold on her.

"Let me get this cut above your eye, so it'll stop bleeding okay?" she told him, grabbing a towel, some medicine and a bandage.

"So I can s-see you better, no?" he tried to chuckle, but it was still a little wheezy.

"There's time for jokes later," she told him gently, patting at his eyebrow.

His gaze never left her face, even as Dr. Cho finished working on other minor injuries. Luckily, the wound above his eyebrow wouldn't scar, just the one across his chest and probably the bullet hole.

"You're lucky you came out of whatever you were doing as well as you did," she told him, applying the bandage.

"I'm lucky to have you here," his response didn't miss a beat, but her heart sure did.

She could feel her face heating up and she had to turn away from him, her adrenaline coming down as the crisis had been averted. She could feel the shaking returning to her hands, but she could also feel a warmth spread through her body as she realized that Pietro was going to be okay.

"I-I'm going to get him a pillow and blanket. He'll probably need to spend the night here, so we can monitor him," she told Dr. Cho.

"That's a great idea," Dr. Cho wiped her forehead off, "You should probably clean up while you're at it."

Lavender looked down at her coat and immediately felt sick. She was covered in blood, _Pietro's_ blood. She put a hand over her mouth as she turned towards the supply cabinet, where they kept extra supplies, feeling her stomach jump into her throat.

It was at this time that the door to the lab opened and Wanda rushed in, with a battered but not as bad as Tony following behind her.

"Woah!" Dr. Cho caught Wanda as she practically flew towards her brother, "Be careful. He has stitches and a wound from a bullet on his right ribcage."

Wanda looked like she was about to snarl something at the doctor, but Lavender quickly stepped in, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"He's alright," Lavender told her softly, watching as the anger faded and worry replaced it, "We took care of him and he'll be okay."

She led the sister to his side, watching as Wanda gripped at his hand with practically all of her strength, tears spilling from her eyes. He muttered something to her in Russian that made her laugh and wipe at her tears, and Lavender smiled.

She approached Tony, who was getting a quick look over by Dr. Cho.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from wavering, looking for any serious marks on him.

He was quick to reassure her that he was alright, preventing any tears on her part. It was such a relief that she threw her arms around him, though she almost immediately felt like a child.

" _You can't show your_ _ **weakness**_ _."_

But he sighed as returned the hug, placing his chin on the top of her head. She could feel his rapid heartbeat and the slight heat from his arc reactor. She felt safe in his arms, in the security that he provided her, not just as being Iron Man, but as being Tony Stark. As being someone who just understood what she needed, like Natasha, but more than Natasha. Without Tony, she wasn't sure if she would have made it as far as she had.

"What happened?" she asked, getting choked up, but thankfully it was muffled by the band tees he was always wearing.

"A slight miscalculation on my part," he told her, rubbing at her shoulder blade, seeming to be comfortable in their position, "I took Sonic here on a mission with me, what was supposed to be a simple inspection of an old HYDRA base to make sure it was still out. But I never expected for some lackeys to have already moved back in and there were just… there were just too many for the both of us to handle. I was protected by my suit of course but he only wears those workout shirts and he had to go and be a hero and take a bullet for me. Of course now I owe the kid something."

She chuckled into his shirt, the sound coming out slightly watery. She took a moment before she told him, in a hushed whisper, "I'm so glad you're okay."

She thought her comment had gone unnoticed, with how small it had come out, but he pressed her harder into him, "I'm not going anywhere."

It was comforting, as was the soft Russian coming from behind her. She didn't let go of Tony for a while.

* * *

Pietro took a long nap, as Wanda dragged a chair up to hold his hand. Lavender had stayed with her a while, saying nothing but tidying up the lab a little. She felt sick every time she looked at the trash bin, knowing there were towels and her lab coat soaked with Pietro's blood in there.

She ran a hand through her hair as she walked towards the twins, Pietro's chest rising and falling in rhythm while Wanda watched his face. She quietly brought a chair beside the twin, plopping heavily down into it as Wanda smiled at her.

They were silent for a moment and she appreciated it, hoping she was offering the brunette some solace simply with her presence.

" _You're more of a_ _ **bother**_ _than you are a comfort."_

"Thank you," came the hushed whisper and she looked over at Wanda, wondering if she had actually uttered those two words.

Then she glanced up at her and Lavender was surprised to see her eyes glassy with tears.

"Pietro would have died if not for you," Wanda couldn't raise her voice above a whisper over her tears and Lavender felt her heart squeeze.

Wanda reached for her hand and she softly took it, though she tried to rebut Wanda's claim, "It wasn't just me who-"

Wanda cut her off, "Pietro told me how you took care of him, soothing him as if I were here because of his fear of places such as this," she sniffled, looking down at her slightly stirring brother, "I would lose half of myself if Pietro were to die. There are no words to express how grateful I am to you. How grateful _we_ are to you."

Lavender had no words. What was there to say besides it hadn't just been her? If Wanda wanted to believe she had saved her brother, if it made her feel better, she would let her believe that lie.

A small sound from Pietro caught both of their attentions and let go of Wanda's hand as the youngest twin leaned forward. His sister's smile was loving as she kissed his forehead, mumbling something in Russian. He answered her and normally she would feel a clawing sensation in her stomach, as the idea that they were talking ill about her crossed her mind. But today, right now, she felt at peace knowing they would still be able to talk to each other, regardless if it was about her.

She let them have their moment, content to listen to them soothe each other in their native tongue. However, she was quick to keep Pietro down when he attempted to sit up.

"Not yet, you'll pop your stitches," she told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was warm and firm under her palm, but she tried not to take notice lest Wanda was accidentally picking up signals in her emotional state.

His eyes were still unfocused, but he slowly reached the hand that wasn't holding on to Wanda's towards hers. His thumb felt over the contours of her hand and he smiled slightly.

"Lavender," he breathed and the way his accent rolled over her name made her stomach twist and contort.

"How are you feeling?" she asked in a whisper, trying to keep any thoughts out of her head.

"Much sore. I feel as if I was attacked by a… what's it called… truck?" he groaned, holding on tightly to both of their hands, hair splayed out on the pillow she had placed under him earlier.

She chuckled slightly, grabbing onto his one hand with both of hers, "That seems accurate. You did take a bullet today."

He blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep out of them, and Lavender couldn't get over the way the lights intensified his eye color, drawing her in to the depths of his soul.

"You protected Stark," Wanda said softly.

He shrugged his shoulders with great difficulty, in an effort to remain cool, "'Snothing."

Lavender felt her chest tighten. It _was_ something to her. Tony would've been okay in his suit, but only until a certain point. He may have been Iron Man, but Tony was just as vulnerable as everyone else and Pietro had tried to help, even if it meant getting hurt on his part. Unknowingly, he had been trying to protect someone that meant more to her than life itself. Much like how Pietro and Wanda only had each other for a long time, Tony had been the only person she could count on for so long. She would never forget his selfless act.

Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother's portrayal of coolness. Wanda leaned back in her seat, still refusing to let go of Pietro's hand. She was probably going to spend the night by her brother's side, but Lavender, however, was not.

"Do you need anything before I go?" she asked softly, removing her hands from his warmth and standing up.

His eyes flashed as he flexed his fingers in the cool room, before they twinkled in delight, "I think a cup of tea would be good, no?"

She laughed lightly, shaking her head at him, feeling something light and airy unwind inside, "Of course. A cup of tea is always good."


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: I antagonized over this chapter because I was going to end it differently but then I decided not to but then I wasn't sure and it was just a mess. I hope this chapter is okay and that I didn't ruin it. Also, flower crowns are my weakness. Also, possible trigger warning? I never know when to put them. I should probably just put one in the summary or something, just to make sure people know._

There was a light knock on her door and Lavender frowned, putting a bookmark in her book. She rubbed at her eyes, the strain of focusing on the words for so long making her head hurt slightly. She yawned as she opened the door, only slightly surprised to see Pietro standing behind it, Wanda peeking over his broad shoulders.

She smiled at them, pulling at the sleeves of the slightly too big sweater she was wearing, "Hey guys, what's up?"

"Let's go to the park!" Wanda was excited, standing on her tiptoes to try and match her brother's height.

Pietro's smile was bright, though she noticed he was favoring his side with the bullet wound.

"Are you sure…?" she motioned to his wounds and Pietro raised an unconscious hand to run it over the top of his stitched wound.

But he waved a dismissive hand, "I am fine. I am tired of sitting in the lab but I am unallowed to be outside by myself."

She chuckled slightly, shaking her head at him. She considered their proposition: the sun did sound nice, even though being in such close proximity with both twins still made her feel slightly uncomfortable. But she glanced up at Wanda, at the excitement shining in her eyes, and then at Pietro, at the blue that always seemed to knock the air out of her lungs, and knew she would be unable to deny their request.

"Let me just put my shoes on," she told them, as Wanda let out a cheer.

* * *

Once they had arrived at a park in the city and she saw the children tumbling across the grass, saw the couples having cute little picnics, felt the sun shining on her skin and heard the wind whistling through the trees, she knew she made the right choice to go out with the twins.

Wanda gleefully ran across the grass, heading straight for the small pond to observe the ducks and the geese. Pietro's smile was fond as his eyes trailed after his sister and Lavender stayed by his side. She was going to give Wanda the day off from looking after her brother.

"It is nice to see Wanda happy," his voice was soft and held a tone of endearment.

"It is also nice to see you happy," she told him, offering him a shy smile.

His eyes widened in surprise and he glanced down at her and she shyly met his eyes, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. His eyes softened though and a wide smile graced his face.

She had to turn away, as she noticed that his eyes matched the color of the sky and that his smile was making her belly do flips. She watched as Wanda threw her hands out, doing a cartwheel before landing heavily on her back in the grass. Her smile was loud and boisterous, scaring the ducks near her. It was a heart-warming sight to see Wanda let herself go, to see both of the twins just be happy.

Pietro let out a yawn and she took notice of the tiredness in his face. She motioned to a shady tree.

"Let's sit here," she offered and Pietro assessed the distance between the tree and his sister, before nodding his head.

She could see the way he struggled to sit down and she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, grimacing at the small groan he gave. Before she could say anything, he was quick to dismiss her concerns.

"I am fine. Just… sore," he winced, placing a hand lightly on his stitches.

"Have you been going to see Dr. Cho to have her check to make sure you're not getting an infection?" she asked, a concerned look on her face.

From the immediate guilt that crossed his face, she knew the answer.

"Pietro!" she scolded him, "You have to let her help you."

"I don't want her help," he told her, his accent rolling over his words as they reached her ears. His eyes were intently fixed on her and if she wanted to look away, she wasn't sure she would be able to.

But she did glance away, towards Wanda who was picking wildflowers, before glancing back to the oldest Maximoff twin.

"Can I check?" she asked softly, wind blowing through her hair.

Pietro's eyes were twinkling as he nodded, lifting his shirt to reveal the red angry stitches adorning his torso. She sucked a breath in, not only because he was half naked in front of her, but also because his wound still looked pretty bad. She could feel her hands beginning to shake as she took him in, took in the tan skin and the toned shape of his body. But she knew she had to steel her nerves in order to properly check his wounds.

"Don't think about him as Pietro. Think about him as a patient. Only as a patient."

She scooted closer to him, reaching a tentative hand up to first check his bullet wound. She lightly unwound the gauze, and peeled away the bandage, to see that it was covered in blood. She shook her head and resolved to change his dressing as soon as they got back to the tower and she wasn't going to let him get out of it. She reapplied the bandage, having to apply pressure in order to get it to stick and making him hiss lightly. She looked up at him as she balled the old, ratty gauze up.

"I am changing this bandage as soon as we get back," Lavender told him, a no nonsense tone in her voice, "And you will not fight me on it."

Pietro laughed lightly, the sound ringing in the air around them, "Yes ma'am."

She rolled her eyes lightly, a small smile on her face, as she turned towards the biggest concern. The edges around the stitches were red, but that was to be expected. What she was really concerned about if any of the wound looked like it was oozing blood or pus, but all seemed to be fine. He must not have been picking at it either, which was always a good sign.

"You can put your shirt back down," she told him, straightening up.

Her heart was pounding and she had to take a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. Looking at bare chests was fine, that was her job, but looking at a bare chest when it belonged to one Pietro Maximoff set her nerves on fire.

"You are always so focused when working," he told her, voice full of mirth as he settled the shirt lightly back over his body, "Is refreshing to see you care so much."

She blushed, biting her lip to prevent her smile from showing. He chuckled lightly, settling against the trunk of the tree as they both turned their eyes towards Wanda as she approached them, a bundle of flowers in her hands.

"Can you help me make a... a um...?" Wanda asked, eyes bright and the excitement shining in her voice as she made a motion of placing something on her head.

"A flower crown?" she asked and Wanda nodded, dropping down in front of the two, dress fluttering around her.

"They're not too hard," she told the twins, reaching for a few flowers, "All we have to do is tie the flowers together, gently, so they don't have to break."

The twins watched her intently, as she slowly wove the flowers together, stopping to place it on Wanda's head every so often to make sure she wasn't making it too big or too small. Lavender smiled the entire time, happy to be showing them something new, something so completely innocent. Finally, she placed the completed crown on Wanda's head, whose smile was so bright Lavender was sure it could rival the sun.

"It is so beautiful!" Wanda gushed, reaching a hand up to lightly touch the crown on her head.

She smiled as Wanda excitedly started working on her own crown, carefully and slowly tying the flowers together.

"Let me make one," Pietro reached forward and grabbing a bundle of flowers, a wince flashing over his face so fast she almost missed it.

"Don't strain yourself," she told him softly and he gave her a small smile, before settling in to make a crown.

Wanda smiled at the two of them and Lavender sighed as she leaned back and closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze that was rolling over them. She was silent as the twins worked, letting herself relax. She was happy to find that her mind was clear, no trace of any negative kind of thought. It was nice to just sit and relax with the two, no inner turmoil, no inner conflict.

"Lean forward," Pietro instructed her, startling her.

She looked towards him and did as he said, a bit apprehensive. But Pietro merely placed a crown on her head, checking it.

"Too small," he muttered and she blushed, realizing what he was doing.

"You don't have to make me one," she told him.

"Wanda already has one," he told him, "Besides, Lavender deserves a lavender crown."

Wanda laughed, nudging at her brother with her foot and that was when Lavender realized Wanda had taken off her shoes, letting her toes wiggle in the grass. It really was nice to see her so happy.

Wanda had finished her crown first, scooting closer to Pietro to place her finished craft on his head. His smile was practically a beam and Lavender couldn't help but feel giddy that the twins were having such a good time. Pietro finally tied a final flower in the crown and motioned for her to come closer and she did to prevent him exerting too much energy.

His hands were gentle as he placed the crown on her head, sliding it down slightly so it wouldn't blow away or fall off with just a turn of her head. His eyes were focused on hers and she felt her heart speed up as he mumbled, "Beautiful." She could swear she heard Wanda gag slightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning back just out of his reach, making him drop his hands.

Wanda scooted closer to them, leaning in close, "Is that a… is called dog, no?"

She raised her eyebrows, turning head in the direction Wanda was staring at. She noticed the Golden Retriever, romping around in the grass with his owner.

"Yeah, it's a Golden Retriever," she informed the twins and Wanda sucked in a sharp breath.

"I _love_ the dogs," Wanda revealed, "They're so… fluffy and loving and all they want to do is run and play."

"I'm sure its owner wouldn't mind if you asked if you could pet it," she told Wanda, an encouraging smile on her face.

Wanda's eyes were shining at the prospect of petting the dog and turned to Pietro, almost as if asking for permission. He looked concerned for a few moments, at the prospect of his sister approaching a stranger, but her puppy dog eyes were working wonders.

"Fine fine fine."

Wanda was gone so fast, Lavender wondered if maybe she was the one with super speed.

"Wanda has been down for so long, I am almost uncomfortable to see her so upbeat," Pietro confessed and she turned towards him.

She knew something about being down, being so broken that it felt like you couldn't even get out of bed, to hate the reflection staring back at you in the mirror. She could almost feel the relief radiating off of Wanda, the ease as her self-hatred lowered, as she began to forgive herself. She also knew the cycle that was involved and hoped Pietro was ready for the crash that was sure to come, as Wanda was sure to be triggered by something. But she didn't say any of that to Pietro.

Instead she smiled at the way Wanda tentatively approached the owner, motioning to the dog and upon receiving permission, bent down to shower the dog in affection.

"But it makes you feel good to know that she's happy."

Pietro nodded, smiling at her. The flowers on his head offset the color of his hair, complimented his eyes and skin. She could see the emotion swirling in the blue of his eyes, a mix of relief and fear and worry. He must feel nervous out in public like this, unable to zip around due to his stitches, meaning he also wouldn't be able to help his sister. She could see the veins protruding from his arms, could imagine the slowness of his heartbeat, the heat of his body.

He was something else, if she was being honest with herself. Lately, he had made her feel safe, like just being near him was enough to quell the demons inside her. His smile was always so inviting, never condescending. His eyes always drew her in, holding her, kept her thoughts captive. She wasn't able to think properly when he was around, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He was looking at her, eyes roaming over her face. She should feel nervous, anxious that he was looking for some flaw to tear her apart with. Instead, she was okay with it. She didn't mind that he was blatantly staring at her. It seemed as if he was trying to capture this moment of the two of them sitting in the park, flower crowns adorning their heads with the sun trying to shine through the leaves of the tree.

She gave him a soft smile. Or maybe that was just her.

Heading back to the base, listening to Wanda ecstatically retell her encounter with the dog, Lavender's arm kept brushing against his. She was trying not to focus on it, the way his skin felt against hers, but it was hard when all she wanted to do take a hold of his hand and keep it close to her, to feel the heat of his palm against hers. She felt almost selfish for wanting it, which is what made her keep her hand to herself, even as the back of their hands brushed together. She was not going to grab it, she was not going to grab it, she was _not going to grab it_.

She felt her heart jump when his index and middle finger, intertwined with her own, lightly so that if he had stepped over the line, she would be able to freely pull away from him. But she smiled, glancing up at Pietro to see him intently talking to his sister, the English stumbling off her tongue in her excitement to tell them all about the dog, trying to keep Lavender in the know.

It was okay. It was good. And there were no thoughts, no tear downs, no anger, fear, worry. She felt good. _This_ was good.

(Back at the base, though, Tony was insulted that no one had made a flower crown for him.)

* * *

"All right spill it," Natasha slapped a hand down on the table, as the two sat outside a little café in the city for lunch, "What are you hiding from me?"

"What do you mean?" Lavender laughed, resting her chin on her hand as the sun shone brightly on her hair.

" _That's_ what I mean," Natasha squinted her eyes, taking a vicious bite of her burger, "I don't think I've ever seen you so happy. Which makes no sense, because _I'm_ your best friend."

She laughed again and Natasha pointed an accusing finger at her, "There has to something wrong with you, you never laugh at my jokes even though I'm hilarious!"

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The redhead leaned in closer, as if getting ready to divulge important information, and asked in a scandalous tone, "Does this have something to do with _Pietro_?"

Lavender's smile faltered, only because her heart had jumped to her throat at just the mere mention of his name, but she quickly recovered, stretching in order to create an air of fake nonchalance.

Natasha's eyes lit up and she practically leapt across the table, " _It does!_ "

Lavender shushed the other, glancing subconsciously at the other tables looking at them in unconcealed annoyance. Natasha returned their glares, before turning happily back towards her, leaning forward on her elbows.

"Tell me everything! Oh my gosh this is so _cute_! I mean I'm not surprised really, he's a good looking kid and your adorable and he would be an idiot to not like you and I mean I've seen him looking at you like _looking_ at your but-" Natasha abruptly cut herself off, refocusing her eyes on Lavender who was watching her in amusement, "No you tell me the story. Don't leave out a single detail."

Lavender merely smiled at her friend, unsure of where she would even _begin_ the story of her elation. Things had been going so good the past few weeks that she wanted to be selfish and keep the memories all to herself, to think about them at night when she started to feel that unease gnaw at her stomach, to make herself feel better when she was starting to feel bad. Natasha took her silence as unwillingness to share.

"That's no fair! Best friends tell each other everything!" Natasha pointed an accusing finger at her, though she was still wearing a smile.

"Best friends."

The thought made her feel giddy on top of her already elevated happiness. She knew she and Natasha were friends, if the amount of time they spent together was anything to go by, but to hear it actually come out of Natasha's mouth, and _best friends_ at that, was so validating.

"I don't…" Lavender ran a hand through her hair, sitting back in her chair, "I don't even know where to begin? Like, he was never in my… my radar or whatever until recently."

Natasha nodded, following along to the story intently. She sighed before she walked Natasha through the story, starting with the first panic attack, retelling of the first time they had tea together, briefly going over his nightmare, more tea times, that time he came in to the lab dying, the park (oh God the _park_ ) and even more tea times. Natasha was ecstatic the entire time.

"That is just _so cute_ , I have never seen you this happy and I am just… so happy for you," Natasha reached for her hands and Lavender shyly gave them to her, "And it makes me so happy to see you happy."

Lavender's face was hot from the blush, "Don't be too happy. He's just… really nice is all."

"Don't be ridiculous," Natasha rolled her eyes, as if the idea was completely absurd, which the idea of Pietro liking Lavender was completely absurd, "He is not just _friendly_ when he's around you."

Lavender completely disagreed with Natasha but she didn't want to argue with her farther. She was just going to sit and enjoy the moment and feeling and the way the sun seemed to be shining specifically on her. Life was good right now and she would deal with her inevitable crash later.

* * *

When Lavender crashed, she crashed _hard_. She woke up screaming, eyes wide as the shapes in the dark shifted, her eyes focusing on one only to jump onto the next. She was hot, but her skin was chilled by the sweat she was sitting in. She could feel her heart pounding hard against her ribs, like it was trying to jump out of her skin. The clock on the side of her bed blinked 12:29am. She couldn't stop screaming.

Her door opened with a bang, which only frightened her more as Pietro and Wanda burst in, Wanda's eyes red and palms shining with energy, with a slightly sleepy but alert Tony with one of his Iron Man arms equipped behind them.

The three of them seemed to visibly relax as they realized what was going on, but she was still sobbing and shaking, blankets bunched tightly up in her hands as she drug them up to her face. Pietro moved to comfort her, but Wanda held him back as Tony pushed his way through, dropping his iron arm to immediately gather the crying girl up in his arms.

"Hey kid, what's the matter?" Tony's voice was hushed, as he pulled her as closely and securely as he could to him, "Shh. Shh."

She couldn't speak through the sobs that were racking her body. She could sense everything that was happening, from Tony's slight rocking, to the stares Pietro and Wanda wore.

" _Such_ _ **weakness**_ _. When will you stop being a problem?"_

"What happened? What happened?" Tony asked, smoothing her hair down as he continued his slightly comforting motion.

She saw the flashes of her nightmare. She saw the blood, pouring from the open wounds. She saw the way his body was hunched over, contorted almost, into the ugly monster that he had become. She saw the knife drop from his hand, stained in crimson and glinting in the low lamplight. She heard his low breathing, the evenness of it, the _calmness_ behind it. _She watched as her father straightened up over the mutilated body of her mother_.

The images, the _memory_ , shook her to her core and her crying picked up speed and her sobs became higher pitched. She clutched at the back of Tony's shirt, trying desperately to meld with him, to leave her useless, broken body behind. To become something better than herself.

She couldn't speak through the tears, she wasn't even going to try. She hadn't dreamt of her mother's murder in so long, she had almost tricked herself into thinking she had gotten over it. But she would never forget. She would never forget the look of her father's face as he turned towards her, her mother's blood smeared on his face. She would never forget the sticky sweet smell of summer mixed with the coppery smell of blood. She would never forget the way her father had advanced on her and the fear that her fate would be the same as her mother's. Or the way her father placed his hands, soiled with her mother's blood, on her shoulders, kissed her lovingly on the forehead, and returned to his lab in the basement.

" _Why can't you just suck it up?"_

She felt a cool hand place itself on the back of her neck and she tensed up, waiting for pressure to be added. Instead, the hand rubbed soothingly across the nape of her neck and a soft, accented voice spoke in her hear.

"Lavender it is all right. You are safe with the Avengers, with Tony and Natasha. No one will be able to hurt you as long as they are around," Pietro's voice was soothing, but his words had no effect.

She wasn't just scared of her own death; she was scared of _everyone's_ death. She could still see the image of Tony lying on the ground, arc reactor dim. She could still see Pietro's open gash, the bullet lodged in his side. Her heart fell every time anyone left on a mission and it never picked itself back up until they were safe and sound, back in the tower. She was always prepared to receive word that an Avenger had went out, but wasn't going to make it back. She was prepared, but she wasn't ready.

She violently shook her head, her sobs echoing in her room and throughout the hall. Tony had been shushing her quietly, speeding up the motion of his rocking, trying desperately to get her to calm down.

But she couldn't. She felt like she was suffocating. Not just because her nose was stuffy and she couldn't stop crying to get oxygen to fill her lungs, but her thoughts were suffocating. She was simultaneously reliving the worst moment of her life and remembering every degrading comment that had been thrown at her after her mother's murder. She couldn't get them to be quiet, she couldn't get them to _stop_ , to let her have a moment of silence.

It took fifteen minutes for Lavender to calm down, even with Pietro rubbing softly at her neck and Tony whispering quiet, reassuring things into her ear. Once she had been reduced to mere sniffles, Tony pulled back slightly to wipe at the remaining tears on her face. He brought her forehead down slightly, in order to kiss it which almost brought on another bought of crying.

No one said anything, as she tried to compose herself, rubbing at her eyes to prevent tears from forming. A quick glance confirmed that no one else had come to witness her breakdown, it had just been Pietro, Wanda, and Tony.

"Are you okay?" Tony quietly asked, rubbing at her arms.

She merely nodded her head, wishing everyone would leave her room so she could just be alone, so they wouldn't have to think she needed looking after all the time. She was so tired of feeling like she needed a caretaker, like she constantly needed the others to check up on her. For once, she just wanted to be strong enough to carry herself, not have others lift her up.

Tony sighed lightly, smoothing her slightly sweaty hair down. He didn't leave for a while, and Pietro stayed crouched beside her bed as Wanda hovered nearby.

" _You can't help but_ _ **burden**_ _others can you?"_

She wiped angrily at her nose, leaning away from Tony, before balling her blanket up in her fists.

"Are you going to be okay if I leave?" Tony asked quietly, and she instantly felt guilty because she had been keeping him from sleep when God knew he didn't get enough of it as it was.

But before she could answer, Pietro was quick to cut in, "We will watch after her."

Tony cut his eyes toward the oldest Maximoff and they seemed to share a moment, before Tony gave him a curt nod. He kissed her forehead again, whispering, "Just let me know if you need me," before leaving, nodding at Wanda as he walked out the door.

Pietro immediately took the vacated spot and Wanda approached her, cautiously. Lavender refused to make eye contact with either one.

"You don't have to stay with me," she croaked out, voice hoarse from lack of use mixed with intense crying.

Wanda headed towards her bathroom, flicking the small light on and filling up a cup with a glass of water. Pietro had a hand over her blanketed knee, rubbing small circles through the fabric. She hated that she could feel the warmth of his palm and some of the callousness. She hated the fact that she found it comforting. Wanda's smile was warm as Lavender lifted her eyes in order to properly take the cup from her.

"Thank you," she whispered, dropping her eyes to stare into the water, seeing her own pathetic reflection staring back at her.

Wanda placed a hand on Pietro's shoulder and held one of their silent conversations, before Wanda placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

"I hope you feel better," her accent was thicker, probably from want of sleep, "I shall see you in za morning, yes?"

She only nodded her head, too afraid to speak. Wanda gave her shoulder a squeeze, in what was supposed to be a reassuring manner, but only mad her tighten her hold on her blanket.

It was silent in her room, as Pietro gave her time. She was grateful he wasn't trying to talk to her about it, but she also wanted him to say something, just to fill in the void. There was a slight shifting on her bed as Pietro scooted towards the war, leaning his back against it. While he was working on getting comfortable, she took the time to take him in. His eyes were small, as he was still slightly sleepy, and the skin on his cheeks was gaunt. His clothing was sparse, a light tank top and a pair of boxers, and from the way his tank top was loose over his chest, she could see the start of his once stitched wound. It looked red and swollen on the edges. The sight made her stomach churn and she turned her face away.

"Come closer," he mumbled, patting the spot beside him, as he pushed the covers back for her.

Lavender stared at the spot, giving a miniscule shake of her head.

"I vill not bite," he told her softly, reaching a hand out towards her.

His accent was thick, as his sister's was, and the guilt just tore through her. She was making him stay up, when he should be sleeping to try and recover. She was only hurting him further.

"What about…?" she motioned to his side, where she had dug out the bullet.

He glanced at the spot, shrugging his shoulders, "Is fine. No hurt."

She bit her lip as she slowly shifted her way towards him, sitting beside him but not quite touching him. But he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. Trying to adjust herself to fit under his arm better, she accidentally put pressure on his wound, making him hiss. She jerked away from him, but he held on tight to her.

"No no, is okay. I'm fine, is okay," he nestled her into his side, wary of his wound, curling into her slightly.

She was shaking again, her heart pounding in her chest as his warmth spread over her. His arm was secure around her, his hand rubbing small circles on her shoulder. If only they had been in this position under another circumstance. If only Lavender didn't feel like she was worthless, like she was merely occupying space. If only she didn't feel like she wanted to _die_.

" _Maybe then you would actually do some good."_

Pietro leaned his head against hers, sighing heavily, his breath ruffling her bangs. From the way she positioned, her head leaning slightly against his muscular shoulder, his tank top was gaping and she could see the angry slash across his chest, the edges raised from where his body was trying to repair itself. Before she could stop herself, she was placing her hand at the top, near his heart. He made a sound, not of pain, but of surprise, as his eyes widened to watch her hand trace the slash, all the way to where it ended at his belly button.

"What if we- what if I hadn't been able to save you?" she whispered, retracting her hand. She grabbed a fistful of blanket again.

"But that is not possible, for I am alive," his accent coated his words, drawing them out slow and heavy. She could hear the sleep in his voice, but she was beginning to panic again.

" _It would've been all your_ _ **fault**_ _."_

"But it _could_ have happened. I might not have been able to save you. You could be dead right now… and it would be all my fault," her sentence ended in a whisper, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. She could imagine Wanda and how upset she would be, how broken should would be. She could imagine her own pain, not only at losing a patient, but at losing _Pietro_.

"It would have only been mine fault," he told her, arm tightening around her. He didn't try to dispel her argument, only tried to shift the blame somewhere off her. She didn't know whether to be grateful or fight harder.

"Look at me," he whispered, catching her chin as she began to tremble, guiding her eyes up towards his.

Blue, blue, and more blue. She could swim in his eyes all day, content with the outcome. His eyes looked as if they had absorbed the sky, but also as if they were as dark as the depths of the oceans. The colors swirled together, creating a color that was uniquely his, and one that could calm her down at night.

His thumb brushed against her cheek, catching a lone tear, and she felt a sob rise in her throat. He was being so kind, so gentle, so understanding. He wasn't going to push her, he wasn't going to make her talk about anything she didn't want to talk about. He was giving her the choice to get it off her chest, or to take comfort in his arms. Lavender didn't know which option sounded better.

"See? I am here, whole. I am not going anywhere," his voice was low, his face so impossibly close to hers that she wondered if he was trying to suck her in with his eyes, with his voice, with his scent. She had never noticed it before, but he had a sort of natural musk that blended in with the cologne that he wore. It was appealing, comforting, "I am not leaving you."

He brushed at another tear as she took in a shuddering breath, her eyes falling shut. She felt selfish for even _thinking_ about it, but she wanted him closer. Wanted to feel his arms wrapped fully around her, to feel that warmth and security when she felt alone and desperate. She wanted to be able to go to him, anytime she wanted, and cuddle into him.

More than anything, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss his stubbly cheeks, to feel the roughness against her face. She wanted to kiss at his neck, hoping he was ticklish and to feel his heartbeat against her lips. She wanted to kiss his mouth, always pulled into a smile for her, a joke hanging off his lips to make her laugh. She wanted to kiss his pain away, to give him happiness even if only for a little bit.

But how could she kiss him, _love_ him, when she could barely love herself? She wouldn't be able to give all of herself to him, to explain to him why she felt low all the time. She wouldn't be able to explain her jumpiness, her eyes wary of strangers, her constantly clenched fists. She wouldn't be able to tell him how she felt, properly, about life, about herself, about him.

She wouldn't be able to do it.

" _You don't_ _ **deserve**_ _happiness."_

Pietro was staring intensely at her, eyes glossed over by her low lamplight. Lavender wasn't sure if his face was dipping lower, or if she was just imagining it. She could see the shadows playing with the contours of his face, making his jaw seem sharper, more defined. She raised a tentative hand and placed it where his jaw gave way to his neck and he closed his eyes at the contact, her fingers shaking. But then he was pulling away, away from her, and her hand fell. She felt her heart drop and she was sinking, low, low, _low_.

He was rejecting her. She would never get to tell him what he did to her, how he made her feel, because he was rejecting her.

" _You always knew this was how it was going to go. You're just_ _ **unlovable**_ _."_

But he was pulling her close, his arm dropping from her shoulder to wrap itself around her waist as he leaned more heavily on her, head dropping down onto hers. Lavender was left blinking as Pietro made himself comfortable, arm around her waist as his other hand reached for hers. His fingers nestled in between hers, large and rough. His palm held hers down, dwarfing her own, and this was okay. If he wanted this, she could give it to him.

"Sleep now, yes?" he asked, pressing his lips into her hair, "Long day."

His English was starting to escape him due to lack of sleep. She slightly nodded her head, so as to not disturb him too much. His breathing was already starting to even out and she could feel the grip on her hand loosening. She tightened her own in order to make up for it and leaned slightly more into him, unsure if she would be able to fall asleep.

Her mind was racing, her heart was pounding, and she couldn't believe Pietro had stayed. He had _stayed_. He had stayed for her. She would have almost smiled if she could have predicted what tomorrow would hold for her. For them.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Okay, so I felt like I needed to change the rating of this story, as this chapter is intense and there is a slightly graphic but not too graphic scene. I definitely think there is a potential rape trigger warning, so please be careful. Other than that though, I hope this chapter answers a few questions and I can't wait to hear your feedback._

Lavender's neck was sore from the awkward angle she had finally fallen asleep in. Her throat felt raw and her eyes stung as she blinked them open. But what she noticed more than anything was that she was so, so _cold_.

Pietro was gone and she was alone. She was utterly alone.

" _What did you think? That he would_ _ **stay**_ _? Who would want to stay with_ _ **you**_ _?"_

There was panic again and she stumbled out of bed, feeling something rise in her throat. Sadness. Despair. Vomit. She held her stomach as she made her way to the bathroom but once she reached the toilet, all she could do was dry heave. Her head was pounding, her hands were sweating, and she was crying again.

" _How could you be so naïve as to believe he would_ _ **stay**_ _?"_

She cried as she gripped onto the sink, looking into her mirror. The image that stared back at her was pathetic. Limp, stringy brown hair hung around her face, her bangs curling from sweat. Her skin was pale and stretched across her cheeks, her nose the wrong angle for her face. Her eyes were too round and their color was dull, the color of mud being washed away. Her lips were pale and skinny, no volume whatsoever.

"The definition of Plain Jane."

" _That's right, Plain Jane. What would Pietro want with someone as_ _ **dull**_ _as you? Someone so_ _ **weak**_ _. So_ _ **pathetic**_ _._ _ **Selfish**_ _._ _ **Childish**_ _._ _ **Idiotic**_ _._ _ **Boring**_ _._ _ **Incompetent**_ _._ _ **Useless**_ _._ _ **Unlovable**_ _."_

The tears spilled and she watched in frustration as the person on the other side of the mirror cried. She was so tired of being sad, of being anxious. She just wanted to be able to approach someone without that little nagging voice in the back of her head, whispering about all the horrible things that could go wrong. She just wanted to look at Pietro without feeling like she was unworthy. She just wanted to be _happy_. This person crying in the mirror was not her. _This was not who she wanted to be_.

Lavender did the only thing she could do to erase that image. She punched the mirror as hard as she could, glass shattering under her fist, pieces raining down in the sink as a few shards flew out and actually cut her face. Almost instantly she regretted it, as the blood started to run down through the cracks, her knuckles on fire. But it also felt good, to see that cracked mirror, to have it resemble how she felt.

She slowly withdrew her hand as more shards fell from where her fist had been and stretched her fingers out, staring down at the pieces imbedded in her skin. The light glinted off of them almost beautifully.

"Lavender."

She had been so focused on her hand that she hadn't noticed her door creaking open nor had she noticed the figure slipping into her room.

Pietro's hands were held up in front of him in a cautious manner, as if she would break down at any moment. His eyes scanned around her, glancing at the shards of glass, before settling on her bleeding hand.

"Lavender, you have to let me help you," he told her calmly, approaching her slowly.

Why did he want to help her? He was just going to build her up only to leave her and let her tear herself down. What was the point of going through this cycle over and over and over again, when she knew he was just going to abandon her?

But she didn't pull away from him. Lavender let him gently grab ahold of her wrists and pull her out of the mess of glass shards. His eyes were trained on her face, taking in the redness around her eye, the miniscule cuts on her face. He led her to her bed, gently pushing her down by her shoulders.

"Stay," he instructed her, focusing intently on her.

She kept her eyes down, staring at the blood dripping from her knuckles. It was warm against her cold skin, the glass pieces twinkling as she stretched her fingers. Pietro returned quickly, easing himself slowly down on the bed, mindful of his own wounds. In his hands was a pair of tweezers, a wet towel, some antiseptic medicine, and some gauze to wrap around her knuckles afterwards.

He was quiet as he carefully plucked out each shard, dropping them into the trash can beside her bed. He would glance up every so often at her, mouth poised like he was going to ask a question before he stopped himself. She couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his face. The _judgement_.

She winced slightly, jerking her hand away from him as he pulled out the final shard, the tweezers digging in a little too hard. His hand held tightly onto hers, murmuring an apology as he set the tweezers aside. He was gentle as he rubbed at the wounds, wiping away the blood until all that was left was the raw, cut up skin.

"How much medicine do I apply?" his question was soft, as he had been the entire time.

"Just enough to cover the top," she was just as quiet as he was, closing her eyes as she felt the sting of the medicine.

His touch was gentle as he spread the medicine over her knuckles. He applied too much, the medicine globbing up in certain places. But she couldn't rectify him, because he looked so _concerned_ as he started wrapping the gauze around her wounds, tightly to ensure that nothing would be able to get in and infect them.

Once he had tied the gauze off, they sat in silence, her hand clenched tightly in both of his, his eyes trained on her hands, trained on the shakiness of them. He eventually sighed, raising her hand to kiss at each of her knuckles.

Lavender was already looking at him when he finally raised his head, eyes sad and tired. She felt the guilt rip through her and tear her heart apart, bit by bit. Pietro tangled their fingers together, one hand reaching up to wipe at the small cut on her cheek, placing his palm over it. His hand was warm, radiating on skin. She raised her own hand to place over his, closing her eyes to escape the intensity of his gaze.

"Why?" his question was so small, but it was inevitable.

She knew it was coming, knew she would be unable to avoid it. He deserved to know, deserved to understand why she was like this, where it was coming from, this instability, this _craziness_.

But did she tell him the whole truth? Did she tell him about her father, her mother, _the_ foster home, about Tony? Was she even going to be able to tell him without breaking down?

Her hand tightened around his and she opened her eyes, to see that he had scooted closer to her, his eyes shining in the lamplight.

"If… If I tell you," she started, "You have to let me tell the whole thing, okay? You can't say anything until I'm finished, until I've said everything I need to say."

Was she really going to do this? Was she going to bare her soul to this man, whose arms reminded her of home and whose eyes were the most calming thing in the world?

She was.

Pietro nodded and she took a deep shuddering breath, deciding that if she was going to go through it all, she needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere besides this stuffy room, with its lurking shadows and hints of her nightmares.

"Can we…" she motioned to the door, hoping that he would understand, that he would know how this room was making her feel.

Pietro nodded, thumb swiping gently under her eye, pushing himself off her bed and holding a hand out to her. Lavender placed her hand tentatively in his, but his was secure around hers, his fingers nestling between hers like they belonged there. She wished they did.

She wasn't sure where she wanted to go. Nowhere in the base seemed comfortable to her, somewhere she would feel like she didn't have to constantly look over her shoulder. But he seemed to know, leading her into the kitchen. She couldn't help but smile as he physically placed her in a chair.

"It is my turn to make za tea," he told her and the thickness of his accent made her glance at the clock.

5:31am. They always seemed to find themselves in the kitchen in the early morning. As he puttered around the kitchen, repeating movements he had watched her do many times, she took the time to think. Her hands were starting to shake, just thinking about her father. She could see his face, so clear and so detailed. His warm brown eyes hidden behind his thin-rimmed glasses, perched on the end of his nose as his head was bent over some papers. She could see the way his hair stuck in the back, as he always forgot to brush it in his haste to get to work.

Thinking of her father made her think of her mother and that was probably the most painful part. She had had eleven wonderful years with her mother and she tried desperately to remember every single thing about her mother, from the way her eyes brightened up when she smiled to the way her laugh made her think that's how a fairy would sound. She inherited most of her features from her father, from the color of her hair and eyes to the angle of her nose, but her smile was entirely her mother's. Sometimes she would smile in the mirror, just to feel like her mother was smiling back at her.

A steaming cup of tea was placed in front of her, making her blink her eyes to get herself out of her funk. She could smell the citrus tea bag floating in the water and she glanced up to see him leaning across the counter towards her.

"You like thiz flavor best, no?" he asked, a cheeky smile on his face.

She gave him a soft smile in return, grabbing the tea string and pushing it deeper into the water, watching as it bounced and resurfaced, repeating the motion a few times.

Did she start now? Did she tell him of that night that used to haunt her almost every night before he had literally ran into her life? He seemed to be patiently staring at her, waiting for her to gather her nerve to tell him, divulge her into life story to him. She took a sip of her tea, but she should have known her tea bag hadn't set long enough. There was no other way to continue stalling, so she wiped her hands on her pajama pants and took in a deep breath.

"When I was eleven…" she started.

 _There was no reason for Lavender to be awake, head propped up on two pillows as she stared at the dark ceiling. She sighed loudly, slipping out from under the sheets. It was late, but she was willing to bet one of her parents were awake. Maybe she could get her mother to make her a cup of citrus tea, their favorite._

 _She smiled as she skipped down the stairs, humming a short tune to herself. Her smile grew as she saw the light on in the living room and no light coming from the basement, meaning her father wasn't working so late into the night for once._

" _Mom? Dad?" she called, sliding across the hardwood floor to the doorway, seeing the top of her father's head, behind the couch._

" _Dad what are you doing?" she laughed, approaching him._

 _But she stopped short when she had reached the side of the couch, seeing him crouched over her mother's body._

" _Dad what… what's wrong with mom?" she asked, her hands starting to shake and she could feel something rising in her throat._

 _He slowly straightened up and she gasped as she saw the blood pooling under her mother, her mouth stretched wide in surprise and her eyes dull. There was a deep hole where her heart would have been located and that's when she saw the knife in her father's hand, glinting in the lamplight._

 _She took a step back as he stood fully, never having thought of him as intimidating until that moment, blood soaking his knees and staining his always crisp white shirt. Her hands were covering her mouth to keep the sobs from escaping, hot tears streaming down her face. Her mother was dead and her father had killed her._

 _She raised her eyes up towards him as he turned towards her, a smile on his lips and a bright shine to his eyes. She couldn't move as he approached her, knife clutched in his hands. This was it. This was how she was going to die._

 _She could only stare at the blood on his shirt as he placed his bloody hands on her shoulders, the hilt of the knife digging into her bone, as he placed a loving kiss on her forehead. Then he was walking around her, footsteps receding and she heard a door open and a light switch flip and knew he was heading to the basement. Like nothing had happened._

Lavender had to stop to take a breath, realizing she had started crying.

"I-I'm sorry," she cried, trying to wipe at the tears but they kept coming, leaving streaks in their wake.

"Do not apologize," Pietro's voice was soft and she realized he has moved to sit beside her, completely turned towards her, all his attention focused on her, "You do not need to apologize to me."

She sobbed slightly, feeling her heart wrench like she was experiencing that night all over again. It felt like she was, remembering every detail all over again, seeing her mother lying on their floor, the blood staining the hardwood floor.

He placed his hand palm side up on the counter, an invitation for her if she felt like she needed something to hold onto, _someone_. But she didn't need him, not yet.

 _Lavender slowly approached the body that had once housed her mother's spirit, but now laid limp like a rag doll. She could see all the cuts and gashes. It looked like he had hacked at her like some sort of animal, not caring where he plunged the blade as long as it was in her flesh._

 _She dropped to her knees, ignoring the blood she landed in, placing a hand on her mother's cheek. Her skin was still slightly warm but her heart had stopped long ago. She cried as she stared into her mother's eyes, realizing she would never give her that secret wink when she let her get off not eating her vegetables. She realized she would never seem them crinkle as her mother laughed, or see her roll her eyes at the news, or even see them shining in the sunlight as they worked in the garden._

 _She realized her mother was dead and her heart broke in two._

She stopped talking, to take a moment and gather herself. She was doing well, she thought. The first time she had told this story she had cried for hours, unable to get past the part of seeing her mother in a pool of her own blood. Now it was just a few sniffles and a lot of tears, though her shaking had increased.

Pietro had sadness in his eyes. She hoped it was sadness for her story, for what she had been through, not sadness for her. She didn't need pity anymore. She needed someone to understand. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something and she cut him off.

"I'm not done."

Her tea was stronger now and she took a sip, to give her a moment to steel her nerves.

 _Her father didn't even fight the cops when they arrived, just smiled and placed his hands behind his head, getting down on the ground like they asked. She had called them, returning to her mother immediately after, petting her hair and studying her face. She never wanted to forget a single detail._

 _She had struggled when a cop tried to pull her away but he was stronger than her and it didn't matter how much she was going to kick and scream, her mother wasn't coming back._

 _She didn't remember much from the next week. There were a few police interviews and she agreed to testify against her father, to vouch for his strange behavior leading up to the murder. The most memorable thing she remembers was that was the week she was finally introduced to Tony Stark. Her father had worked for Stark Industries, trying to build a robot that could house an AI that would be able to learn and grow as it experienced life. It was this work that had drove her father crazy, the police told her, and was the reason he had murdered her mother._

 _She hated Tony. She hated everything he and his company stood for. She hated him for driving her father to do what he had done._

 _She refused to speak to him when he came to see her at the temporary foster house they had placed her in. Social services were trying to find somewhere for her to stay as both of her parents were only children and her grandparents had already passed._

" _I can understand why you're upset with me," he told her, standing in front of her as she sat on the couch, eyes cast down at her hands, "And I just want to offer you my deepest condolences."_

 _But she felt as if his words were empty, something to be said in order to feel like he had somehow made up for the tragedy he had caused. She would never forgive him, not for as long as she thought about her mother resting in a coffin._

 _He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her current foster parents who practically had money swimming in their eyes. He stepped towards her, holding out a card in between his fingers._

" _This is my number," he told her, voice low, "My personal cell. You call me anytime you need anything. Wherever, whenever."_

 _She crumbled it in her fist as he left._

"You _hated_ the Stark man?" Pietro asked, shock laced in his accent.

She couldn't help but laugh, knowing how absurd it must sound seeing how close she was with Tony now, "I couldn't stand him. I felt like he had taken both of my parents from me, you know?"

Pietro nodded slowly and Lavender felt as if she could kick herself. She had forgot all about his own parents, how one of Stark Industries bombs had been the cause of their demise. But she couldn't stop talking now, she had to trudge through or she would never be able to finish.

"If you let me finish telling my story, I'll tell you how I stopped hating him."

But this is where the story got hard. This was the part where she felt like another piece of her had died. Her mother was the first piece, her spirit was the second.

 _She was unable to stay in a foster home for more than a week. They couldn't handle her constant nightmares, her overwhelming need to be alone, to be isolated from society. They called her a problem child, a hopeless case. No one listened to her, not really. They understood that she had lost her parents in a tragic way. They knew she was sad. But they would never understand that she wanted to_ _ **die**_ _._

 _They didn't understand the hatred she held for herself. The way she beat herself up. She could have saved her mom. She_ _ **could**_ _have, if she had only said something, alerted someone to the way her father's eyes would weirdly glint behind his glasses, how little he slept at night._

 _But everything seemed bright when a newlywed husband and wife adopted her, due to the wife being infertile. The warm smile the wife held reminded her of her mother and she had cried when the woman had hugged her, promising to keep her safe. But the way the man looked at her made her skin crawl._

 _The first week was great. They gave her plenty of time to get accustomed to her new home, to the room that had been painted a light pink for her. She attended a new school, met new people, joined the cheerleading squad. She was twelve and she was happy, the happiest she had been since the murder._

 _The woman was so nice to her, but the man… he looked at her like a piece of meat. He put her down whenever the woman wasn't around, calling her names and tugging harshly on her hair. He muttered nasty things to her about her father, told her she was the reason her mother was dead. He seemed to enjoy seeing the fear in the eyes, seeing the way she would deflate when he entered the room, when he entered_ _ **her**_ _room._

Here she took Pietro's hand, knowing she needed him to get through this next part. From the look on his face, he seemed to know what was coming. The anger on his face was apparent, but from the way he clutched her hand, held it close to his body, kissed her knuckles and the tips of her fingers and the back of her hand, that the anger was aimed at her past, not at her.

Her tea had gone cold and she pushed it away from her.

"You don't have to-"

But she shook her head. She _did_ have to tell him. He deserved to know why she was so uncomfortable, why she flinched away, why she observed crowds so intently. He deserved to know why she was soiled, unworthy of love.

 _He only came in at the dead of night, locking the door and pulling the blinds closed, casting the room into the darkness. He would drag the blankets off her, throw them onto the floor as he climbed into the bed. His hands were rough from the construction he did, scrap her legs as he ran them up her thighs. He would place a hand on her mouth, tell her not to make a sound. His breath would be hot on her face, but he never drank. He was always sober so that he could remember every minute, while she wished that she could just forget. He didn't do much at first, just a lot of groping as he touched himself, always careful to never leave any evidence on her or her belongings. He liked to call her princess, liked to groan it in her ear as if she was somehow enjoying herself too. Her pillow was always soaked at night._

 _She was twelve when it started, but fourteen when it ended. It picked up in momentum when she hit puberty, when the woman started taking her shopping for bras and teaching her how to use pads and tampons. One night he made her touch him to completion and the next she had to keep her mouth open for him. One night his fingers were inside her and then the next he was, grunting like a pig in her ear. She had never felt so low in her life as she felt his pelvis leave bruises on hers._

 _Her gym teacher was the one who found out, seeing the unnatural bruises on her body as she changed after the girls, too afraid to show her body. Her gym teacher was the one who called the cops, who had them investigate into the case of the girl who was possibly being sexually abused. She owed so much to her gym teacher, because she was the one who saved Lavender._

 _She had been planning on killing herself, had been planning on taking all of the pills in the medicine cabinet to stop the pain, to take herself away._

Pietro took in a sharp breath, eyes closing as he tightened his hold on her hand. She was crying again, little sobs racking her body, but she was going to finish her story.

 _She had no one to turn to when the police asked if she had anyone to stay with. They weren't going to let her stay with the woman, who fell into drugs and drinking after her husband was carted off to jail. There was no one in the world who cared for her._

 _But Tony Stark showed up at the police station, offering her a place to stay. Tony Stark, who had her parent's blood on his hands, was reaching a hand out to the broken girl who had no one, no ounce of ill intent on his face._

 _For the first year after she agreed to stay with him, he never let himself be alone in a room with her. He always had Pepper with him, who never looked down on her. He talked to her about school and about the weather and about the stars once she let it slip that she enjoyed looking at them. He bought her a telescope and the three of them spent many nights tracking stars and planets and looking for comets and meteors. He never talked about her parents, he never talked about the man or the woman, and if he ever heard her crying he never brought it up, never questioned the nightlight she bought to put in her room._

 _He was a rock in the white water stream that was her life. He was sturdy and prominent, letting her hold onto him whenever she needed to. He never pushed her to do anything she didn't want to do, never made her feel as if she was some sort of failure. He showed her things from his lab, thing he thought that would interest her. He put her through school and college, never complaining about the price even though she cried into her pillow about it at night. He introduced her to Dr. Cho, whose research instantly fascinated her. He was the reason she found her passion, the thing she excelled in._

 _Tony Stark wanted nothing more than to improve the life of the girl he thought he helped ruin. She would forever be grateful to him._

 _Her younger self never thought she would have made it that far, never would have thought she would walk across that stage and accept her diploma, shyly shaking hands with the president who congratulated her. To him, he was congratulating her on making it through college. To her, he was congratulating her on making it through life._

 _(She would never tell him, but she caught him wiping tears from his eyes as she walked off the stage, feeling on top of the world.)_

Lavender was quiet as she finished, reflecting on her past that had made her who she was today. She was still a wreck in most cases, unable to trust anyone she met, unable to sleep in the dark. She was a crybaby who couldn't stand the thought of men looking at her, who couldn't stand the thought of seeing herself naked. Sometimes she was happy that she was alive, that she had made it through her own personal hell. But sometimes she still wished she was dead so the memories wouldn't have to haunt her, so she didn't have to hear the echo of the man's words every time she closed her eyes.

Right now they were silent, as was Pietro. She could read him like a book and it seemed as if he was looking at her in something akin to admiration. But she didn't feel like she deserved it. She had merely survived her ordeal, she hadn't conquered it. She had let other people help her out of her situation rather than doing it herself.

Her hand was still clasped tightly in his, sitting on the counter. She sighed, realizing he was waiting for her to say something, to indicate that she was finished. But she was done talking. She was done listening to herself weep, done feeling sorry for herself. She was tired of always feeling like she had to hide in the shadows, tired of feeling like she wasn't good enough for anybody, for _herself_.

She slumped towards Pietro, who breathed hard through his nose, a laugh that hadn't quite made it out. He wrapped both of his arms around her, pulling her close and she was careful to avoid putting pressure on his wounds.

He didn't say anything, just slowly and softly rubbed a hand up and down her spine, the other rubbing at the nape of her neck. She could stay like this forever, wrapped safely in his arms, taking shelter from the rest of the world. But she also knew she couldn't. His arms could be her safe haven, but it was time she stopped shielding her face and time she faced the world.

"Perhaps you vould like to sleep now, yes?" he asked softly, lips close to her ear and accent making her melt.

Her bed did sound nice, but her bed wasn't Pietro. It couldn't give her the same comfort he could, the same warmth. So she shook her head, burying her face deeper into his neck as she did so. She was rewarded with a shake of his body as he jerked slightly away from her.

"Sorry. Am ticklish there," he murmured and she smiled, laughing lightly. Her want for his neck to be ticklish was not in vain.

She felt like she should get started, go help Dr. Cho who was probably in the lab testing out the new organs, but Pietro was so warm and firm that she also didn't want to move. Lavender heaved out a deep breath, making goosebumps erupt across Pietro's skin.

"Can I just… stay here for a while longer?" she asked, voice low.

His arms tightened around her, kissing the top of her head, "Of course, _sladkaya moya_."

She would have to ask him later what that meant, she thought as her eyes drifted shut and her breathing evened out.


	6. Chapter 6

Lavender woke up tucked tightly into her bed, sunlight streaming in through the window on the far wall. She blinked a few times, trying to remember the past few hours. Her clock blinked 8:57, meaning she had only slept a few hours. She rubbed a hand over her eyes, throwing her feet over the side of her bed as she yawned.

She felt good. She felt _really_ good. She felt light and airy, like this was a turning point for her. She didn't think it was going to be easy, in fact, she knew it wasn't going to be. But she had to try. This was something she had to do.

The first step was helping Dr. Cho.

* * *

Dr. Cho was frustrated when Lavender entered the lab, staring angrily into the cradle.

"I just… don't understand what we're missing!" Dr. Cho's hair was messy, her usually immaculate bun hanging low with a few strands hanging out of place.

Lavender looked up at the information hanging in the air, scanning over the latest results. The last rat organ had lasted just under 24 hours outside of the cradle, which was a huge improvement. But she knew Dr. Cho was being pressured by the medical community to get the results everyone wanted, soon, and it was putting a strain on the doctor.

Lavender placed a hand on Dr. Cho's shoulder, giving her an encouraging smile, "Dr. Cho we're making such tremendous strides. We're just not… approaching this from the right angle is all."

Dr. Cho heaved out a sigh, straightening up as she glanced inside the cradle, where another organ was slowly growing, "I just can't believe we're so close but can't get it."

Lavender nodded her head, understanding the doctor's frustration, "I know. But we'll get it."

Dr. Cho nodded slowly, before stepping away from the cradle to bring up the algorithm, "Here's the latest algorithm we came up with."

Lavender pulled her hair out of her eyes and up into a pony tail, Dr. Cho watching her as she did so, "Let's get to work."

* * *

She and Dr. Cho worked tirelessly that day, skipping lunch and almost skipping dinner trying out different formulas. They just couldn't get the rat's bodies to accept the organs as their own.

Lavender threw herself into a chair, rubbing at her eyes to get a reprieve from staring at the algorithm. Dr. Cho was rubbing at her temples, eyes trained on the cradle.

"I just don't understand," Dr. Cho muttered, "What are we _missing_?"

Lavender was mentally tired. They couldn't give up though. There was so much riding on their work and so many people counting on them. But they wouldn't find it today, not in their frustrated states.

There was a light knocking on the door and then it was sliding open, Tony entering the room.

"Hey kiddo, I've been trying to find you all afternoon. I should've known you'd be here."

She smiled as he approached her, nodding at the good doctor, placing a light hand on her shoulder, squeezing at the tense muscles.

She flashbacked to the first time Tony had ever touched her, this same friendly act in order to try and calm her down.

 _She was sitting at the desk in her room, cradling her head as she wept over her college acceptance letters. They were just so_ _ **expensive**_ _and there was no way she would be able to pay for it and there was no way she could ask Tony to pay for it when he had already done so much._

" _Hey kiddo. Got some mail with your-" Tony stopped short as he saw the girl slouched over her desk._

 _She glanced up at him, eyes watery and wide at having been caught. This hadn't been the first time he had seen her cry and normally he wouldn't bother her about it. But seeing the acceptance letters under her elbows and knowing he was holding more in his hand made him throw caution to the wind._

" _What's wrong?" he asked, placing the envelopes on her desk as he very slowly and very lightly placed a hand on her shoulder._

 _She tensed under his touch, her crying having ceased by his actions. They had long gotten past the stage of never being alone together, but he still refrained from touching her. But his hand was firm on her shoulder, holding onto her, grounding her. That was all he did. He just laid his hand on her shoulder, glancing down at her acceptance letters._

" _Have you decided which college you'd like to go to?" he asked it so off-handedly, like it was the easiest decision of her life._

 _She just shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on the words in front of her._

' _Congratulations Lavender! We are so excited to inform you that you have been accepted to-'_

" _I may be biased, but I think MIT is the way to go."_

 _She laughed slightly, wiping at her nose, straightening up slightly._

" _Why did you apply to so many colleges anyway? Do you not know where you want to go?"_

 _She didn't know how to answer him without telling him that she couldn't afford it, because she knew the second she said it he would tell her he would cover it. But she couldn't expect that of him. She couldn't let him give her more than he already had._

" _I just…" she shrugged her shoulders. What did she say? How did she explain it to him?_

" _You like your work with Dr. Cho yeah? Then…" he ruffled through some papers and pulled up a specific college, "This a great school to go to practice medicine."_

 _She looked at the big named school, could practically see the dollar signs in the name._

" _Yeah but-"_

" _But that's only my opinion. If you want to follow your passion, this is where you should start. But you let me know when you make your decision. Until then, Pepper has dinner ready."_

 _He gave her shoulder a squeeze, a small smile, and then he was gone. She had continued to sit in her chair, holding the acceptance letter in her hand. It wasn't too far from where Tony lived, meaning she could come back whenever she wanted. She would be able to pursue what made her happy, what she thought of day and night. Saving others, like she hadn't been able to save her mother._

 _She threw the other acceptance letters away._

"Working on your organ making machine?" he asked, glancing up at their work but not really taking it in.

"It's a regeneration cradle," she mumbled, leaning into him, "You'll be thankful for it when you drink your liver into a coma."

"Hey," he half chastised, half chuckled.

She smiled as she felt the sound rumble through his body, jostling his arc reactor a little. She sighed as she felt the heat of it against her skin, a comforting sensation. She thought about how the machine worked in tune with Tony, sending pulses through his body in order to keep his heart safe.

She furrowed her eyebrows as she pulled away from him, facing the arc reactor. She placed a hand on it, watching it glow between her fingers as she thought.

"Something up kiddo?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her strange actions

"How did you get this to work… how does this machine work so in tune with your body when it's _not_ your body…" she was muttering, tapping at the arc reactor as she thought, glancing between the algorithm and the cradle, "…how to make a machine work with a body…"

Dr. Cho was looking strangely at her, but she was thinking too much to notice. She was typing on the computer, tweaking the algorithm, a smile growing on her face as she worked.

"Did you think of something?"

Lavender turned to them, her eyes wide and excited, hands flying as she swiped at the screen, "What are we doing when we make organs? We're growing them right? We're growing them independently from any other living thing, like a machine."

Dr. Cho nodded, looking at the cradle.

" _That's_ why the organs aren't working! The body isn't rejecting the organ, the _organ_ is rejecting the _body_!" Lavender was excited, motioning to the cradle, "The machine and the body can't work separately from each other. They have to work _together_. We have to put the body _in_ the cradle and let the organ grow in the body while it's in the cradle!"

Dr. Cho's face instantly lifted, as she understood what Lavender was getting at. Lavender turned towards Tony, grabbing him by the arms, staring at his arc reactor.

"Your arc reactor works in almost the same way except your body didn't grow around the reactor. But there's the same principle behind it and Tony do you _know what this means_."

He just nodded his head, as the neck second she was racing away from him. Instantly she and Dr. Cho went to work, chattering about how best to hook a body up in the cradle to get the organ to grow. Amidst their frantic actions, Tony placed a hand on her shoulder, a proud look gracing his face.

"Good job kiddo."

She could feel his proudness wrap around her heart and squeeze, a large smile blooming across her face.

* * *

The next few days were frantic, as Lavender and Dr. Cho worked day in and day out, running tests on rats to make sure that they had _finally_ gotten it right, that they would finally be able to save lives.

It was a success. Each rat they grew the organs in showed no signs of detrimental effects and continued living their little rat lives. She was so happy seeing the rat munching on food and running in its little wheel that she actually cried a little in the lab. But it was okay, because Dr. Cho was too.

The local medical board was invited to see their work, who were blown away at what they had accomplished. There were talks of running a few human test subjects and then the manufacturing of a few models to sell to the biggest hospitals in the world. She was ecstatic as the board members patted her on the back, huge smiles on their faces as they congratulated her, over and over.

Of course Tony was the most proud, the proudest she had ever seen him, even more proud than when she had graduated college. Except there were no tears this time. There was nothing but tight hugs and kisses on the top of her head. Natasha hugged her hard, whispering an, "I'm so _proud_ of you," in a watery voice. Wanda was astonished, talking about the endless possibilities their machine has made available, the lives they would be able to save. And Pietro.

Pietro's eyes were a warm blue, swirling as they drew her in. His arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her as close to him as he possibly could, her own arms winding around his back. She was conscious of the stitches on his torso but he wasn't, squeezing her as he placed a small kiss to the side of her temple.

" _Sladkaya moya_ , you have changed the world," he breathed into her ear and she grinned.

Because she had. She and Dr. Cho have spent so long working on the cradle, spent hours staring at algorithms and pulling at their hair. But they had finally done it. Their machine was on its way to making sure that each and every person who needed a transplant would be able to get one, no ifs ands or buts.

This was all she's ever wanted, this feeling that she's finally obtained. It's one of the most enlightening things she's ever experienced and all the people surrounding her, all the people who _love_ her, are only heightening it. She was so, _so_ happy, even though at times she would hear a praise uttered in her direction and she would tense up, waiting for the voice to start, to telling her why she didn't deserve it. But there was nothing. Just the sound of her own voice singing.

* * *

Tony insists they throw a party, in honor of one of the biggest technological revolutions in their generation's medical history. But it's just them, the Avengers and Dr. Cho and her, sitting in the common room and drinking expensive champagne, basking in the glow of the two's success. Lavender feels like she's on cloud nine, glancing around at all the faces she has grown to love, some of them for a while, some of them recently. She wants to protect them with every fiber of her being and now the cradle has made that possible, now she can ensure that they won't have to die prematurely.

She made eye contact with Pietro, who was looking at her with such adoring eyes that she blushed. Normally a look like that would have been too intimate for her, a look she didn't think she would be worthy of receiving. Now here she was, reveling in his eyes, feeling that warmth untangle in her stomach and spread to her toes, her fingertips, her cheeks. She couldn't blame it on the alcohol either, as she had barely taken a sip of hers, the taste too acidy on her tongue.

Lavender glanced back up at him, to see him inclining his head to the small balcony, standing afterwards. She looked around at the people around her, who were laughing at a tale that Thor was telling, who really did have the best stories, and figured she wouldn't be missed. She followed after him, the cold air making goosebumps pop up over her arms. Pietro was waiting for her, following her with his eyes. She could see the moonlight reflecting in the color she had come to love, the color she associated with warmth and acceptance.

He was silent as she slid up beside him, resting her arms on the rails as she stared out into the dark abyss. The night was quiet and still, the only sound the wind making the grass whistle and the trees shake. He never turned away from her, kept his eyes trained on her, his glass of champagne forgotten.

She was unsure what to say as she was unsure where they even stood with each other. She couldn't forget how soft his kisses had been against her knuckles as she had spilled her soul to him, how secure his arms were around her. But she also couldn't help but think of the day after her meltdown, when she had woke up alone, just the thought making the warmth in her stomach retract. To say she was confused was accurate, but frustrated also worked.

Pietro's sigh broke her out of her thoughts and she watched him out of the corner of her eye, as he shifted his weight and casted his eyes down. Was he just as confused as she was? Did he not know what to make of this situation either? She may have been able to tell him her past, holding his hand as she walked him through the worst moments of her life, but she didn't think she was capable of telling him how she wanted her future to go: that she wanted him in it.

She turned her eyes toward her hands, watched as they tightened around her glass, the champagne inside sloshing around. It would be so easy to tell him, and she wouldn't even have to say a word. But just thinking about uncurling her fingers and opening her hand to him brought a shake to her knees and made her tense up, waiting for the inevitable snarl, for the inevitable thoughts.

But there was nothing. Just the feeling of her heart pounding in her chest, her knees knocking together, and her own personal insecurities of _"What if?"_ She could do it. She could do this with Pietro, try a relationship with a man whose arms felt like home and whose scent calmed her like no other.

It was such a simple act, loosening one hand from her glass and placing her palm face up to the moon, holding it out for him. It was such a simple act with so much riding on it. If he rejected this, if he rejected her hand at this very moment, that was it. She would never hold it open for him again and there would be no future with him, no shelter and no warmth. She would lose one of the people she had grown to care most about, third in line to Tony and Natasha. Information like this would have made past Lavender run, would have made her hide her face in her pillow as her tears soaked it through. But today's Lavender was strong, with the acceptance of her knees.

There was a short pause and she almost feared the worst, but then he was sliding his hand into hers, his fingers resting snugly between hers like their fingers had been forged together and then broken apart in order to form separate bodies. She let out a breath that had been making her feel light headed, felt her heart relax as her stomach turned summersaults. He stepped closer to her, his arm brushing against hers as he turned her to face him.

" _Sladkaya moya_ ," he whispered, tentatively raising a hand to place on her cheek, like he was still afraid even after her initiation.

But she smiled at him and leaned into his hand slightly, "That's the third time you've called me that… what does it mean?"

"It means 'my sweet,'" he told her, thumb rubbing lightly over her cheekbone, angling her face towards his, "Because you are so very, very sweet."

His voice had dipped down a few notches, accenting thickening and making something settle low in her stomach. He had dropped her hand to properly frame her face and she had raised her hands to grab a hold of each of his wrists, grip tight. She could feel her breathing pick up because if she was right about what he was going to do, she didn't know if she was ready. She didn't know if she was ready to taste this man's kisses. She wanted it, had thought about kissing him plenty of times, but finally being placed in this situation was making her feel anxious.

But it didn't feel wrong. She didn't feel like she had back in college, when she had tried to force herself into relationships with guys to prove that she wasn't broken, that she was normal. But she had never gotten this close to one of them, had never felt this comfortable with them. Pietro, though, Pietro set her nerves on fire and sent her tummy tumbling down stairs in the best way possible. This was the man she wanted to place her trust in, to burrow down beside when it was rainy and cold outside. This was the man she wanted to see off before every mission, to fret about while he was gone, to welcome with open arms and a few tears when he came home.

She wanted Pietro, in almost every sense of the word. Some wants were still locked away, to traumatizing to even begin thinking about. That was for another day, another chapter, when the sight of herself didn't disgust her anymore, when she was sure Pietro wouldn't be disgusted with her.

But this was today and she wanted to kiss him. Wanted to feel his lips press against hers, breathing life into her. She wanted to kiss the sleep away every morning, wanted to feel his stubble against her cheek when they hugged impossibly close. She wanted to kiss his lips, his nose, his forehead, his heart. How did she convey these feelings to him without words, when she knew words would fail her?

Lavender didn't have to though, as his head was lowering, lowering, _lowering_ , until their noses were touching, rubbing lightly against each other. She could feel her hands shaking, could physically feel her knees knocking together. It had been a metaphor earlier, her knees knocking together, but now they were really doing it. She sighed, her breath fanning across his face as she closed her eyes, unable to look at him any longer.

"Iz this… okay?" he asked, a nervous tone hidden beneath his whisper.

She had no words to describe how okay it was, how okay _she_ was. So she settled for a small jerk of her head in affirmation, but that wasn't enough for him.

"I need to hear you say it, _sladkaya moya_ ," he instructed her, his voice floating in her ears, making her heart sing. He needed her consent.

"This… this is okay," she gasped out, afraid to ruin the moment with poor word choice and even poorer actions. She opened her eyes, " _We_ are okay."

And then he was descending upon her, kissing her. She almost fainted, but he held her up, hands steady on her face as he pressed slightly closer to her, shortening the gap between their bodies. She was holding so tightly onto his wrists that she was afraid she was going to leave bruises behind and so she let go, only to grasp onto the front of his shirt. His lips parted slightly, like he was trying to draw the air out of her lungs and into his, trying to breathe all of her in. It was working too: she was becoming light-headed, though she never wanted to stop.

But he pulled away first, pressing his forehead against hers as they breathed together, her eyes opening even though she didn't remember closing them. She almost felt like a dog the way she was panting, but she wasn't ashamed. She felt full. So full of love and joy that she felt like she could burst.

"I…" he panted, eyes opening to connect with hers and she was pleased to find that that electricity had not gone away, that it still rolled through her stomach when he looked at her, "… have wanted to do that for a vhile."

She laughed, feeling any tension or reservations she had had melt away. She flexed her fingers, trying to get the feeling back in them and he gave a small chuckle of his own.

"Well, now…" she started off shyly, glancing up at him between her eyelashes, "… now you can do it whenever you want…"

His eyes widened, but only slightly, a grin making its way to his face.

"Yes…" he murmured, moving some of the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail out of her face and behind her ear, "I think I vould like that."

Then he was kissing her again, making her toes curl in her flats. Lavender never wanted to leave this balcony, never wanted to face any one again who wasn't Pietro, who didn't want to hold her, kiss her, _love_ her. She just wanted to stay like this forever.

But a loud banging followed by cheers broke them apart and they both turned towards the common room to find that the others stood on the other side of the glass, clapping for them. Her face immediately became hot but Pietro just laughed, pulling the girl covering her face into his chest, holding her close.

She peeked out from between her fingers to look at each person individually. Dr. Cho, Thor, Steve, Bruce, and Clint merely had their glasses raised towards them, small smiles on their faces. It seemed like Natasha was whooping, as a fan would do for their favorite sports team, hands raised above her hands as she clapped. Tony had his hands buried in his pockets and for a moment, she thought he was mad, that he was upset with her. But after he seemed to heave a sigh he raised his own glass, giving her a fond albeit slightly sad smile, before downing the rest of the liquid.

But Wanda… Wanda was crying, tears streaming down her face as a hand covered her mouth. For one heart stopping second, Lavender thought it was all going to come tumbling down. If there was one person in the world that she needed to be okay with this relationship it was Wanda, for without Wanda there was no Pietro. They were a package deal and she was okay with that, was ready to accept that.

But then Wanda removed the hand from her mouth to reveal a huge smile, cheering for her brother and Lavender, cheering for the relationship she had known was coming, for the relationship she had been supporting all along. If there was anyone who was right for her brother, it was for the sweet girl who had known more tragedy than most, who had survived that tragedy and turned it into fuel to save others, who had saved her brother.

Pietro let her go in order to pry the hands away from her face so he could hold them, "Should we join the rest, _sladkaya moya_?"

She glanced over again, at the band of broken souls she got to call her family and smiled, nodding her head. There was nowhere else she wanted to be, no other place she wanted to call home.

* * *

Lavender jolted awake, eyes wide and heart pounding, feeling the sweat sliding down her forehead. The darkness covered her like a thick, smothering blanket, the only light the clock blinking on her nightstand. 4:19.

She could still see the after images, the moonlight making the blood and the knife shine. It had shifted partway and her father had morphed into the man whose grin remind her a wolf that desired to devour her whole, body and soul. She remembered hearing herself cry, felt her legs quiver in pain at the thought. She could feel the panic approaching her, steady like a heartbeat.

But then a slight shifting against her legs had her snapping back to reality. She felt the arms wrapped around her, the short puffs of breath against the back of her neck, the stubble that accompanied it. She could feel the fear subsiding, could see the monsters in the dark dissipating like mist.

Pietro mumbled something in his native tongue, something that vaguely sounded like _sladkaya moya_ , licking his lips as he barely tightened his arms, before he relaxed and settled back down.

She took a moment to breath, to hold it in her chest as she felt her heart beat which was already beginning to even out. She felt like she needed to stretch her legs, to let her arms reach to the sky, but Pietro's rule of her sleeping on the inside forbade her from doing that. Instead, she searched for his hand under the covers, linking her fingers with his.

She was okay. She was in her room, safe and sound with Pietro, who she knew wouldn't let anything happen to her. Tony was safe, probably in the lab tinkering with something, and Natasha was with Clint and Co., visiting the newest addition. Everyone was safe and everything was fine.

"No," she chuckled slightly to herself, snuggling further down into her pillow as she closed her eyes, a smile playing on her lips, "Everything is _great_."

There was no voice to counteract her statement.

 _AN: And that's a wrap. I'm sorry if the ending seems brief but really, I didn't think there was much more I could do with Lavender and Pietro. After telling Pietro what she needed to, there was no other climatic ups and downs for the couple and so I decided it was time to end their story. I also briefly flirted with the idea of having Pietro go into battle and not come back, to show that Lavender could indeed break again but also rise again, but I decided not to go down that route._

 _However, I would like to thank every one, and I mean **every one** , that read or reviewed because it really meant so much to me and I'll never be able to fully express my thanks. It's been a long time since I've felt good about anything I've written, but the way this story was received has been magnificent and really validating and just. Thank you. So much._


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